Riverside  Literature  Series 


HUXLEY 
Autobiography 


elected  Essays 


Houghton  Mifflin  Co. 


THOMAS  HENRY  HUXLEY 


Cl)c  KitirrstDf  ^Literature  fer nr s 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  AND 
SELECTED  ESSAYS 

BY 

THOMAS  HENRY  HUXLEY 

EDITED,  WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES 
BY 

ADA  L.  F.  SNELL 

ASSOCIATE  PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH 
MOUNT  HOLYOKE  COLLEGE 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

Boston  :  4  Park  Street ;  New  York  :  85  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago  :  378-388  Wabash  Avenue 

£bc  tfmersi&c  press  Cambridge 


CONTENTS 

PREFACE iii 

INTRODUCTION 

The  Life  of  Huxley iv 

Subject-matter,  Structure,  and  Style  of  Essays      .         .          xviii 
Suggested  Studies        ........       xxi 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1 

ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 15 

A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION 35 

ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 44 

THE  PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION          .        .        .        .73 
THE  METHOD  OF  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION         ...        85 

ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFK 95 

ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 115 

NOTES    .  i 


This  edition  is  published  by  permission  of  and  special 
arrangement  with  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  and  Company,  the 
authorized  publishers  of  Huxley's  Works. 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY    HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


1101 


PREFACE 


THE  purpose  of  the  following  selections  is  to  present  to 
students  of  English  a  few  of  Huxley's  representative  es- 
says. Some  of  these  selections  are  complete ;  others  are 
extracts.  In  the  latter  case,  however,  they  are  not  extracts 
in  the  sense  of  being  incomplete  wholes,  for  each  selection 
given  will  be  found  to  have,  in  Aristotle's  phrase,  "  a 
beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end."  That  they  are  complete 
in  themselves,  although  only  parts  of  whole  essays,  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  Huxley,  in  order  to  make  succeeding  ma- 
terial clear,  often  prepares  the  way  with  a  long  and  careful 
definition.  Such  is  the  nature  of  the  extract  A  Liberal 
Education,  in  reality  a  definition  to  make  distinct  and 
forcible  his  ideas  on  the  shortcomings  of  English  schools. 
Such  a  definition,  also,  is  The  Method  of  Scientific  In- 
vestigation. 

The  footnotes  are  those  of  the  author.  Other  notes  on 
the  text  have  been  included  for  the  benefit  of  schools  in- 
adequately equipped  with  reference  books.  It  is  hoped, 
however,  that  the  notes  may  be  found  not  to  be  so  numer- 
ous as  to  prevent  the  training  of  the  student  in  a  self-reliant 
and  scholarly  use  of  dictionaries  and  reference  books ;  it 
is  hoped,  also,  that  they  may  serve  to  stimulate  him  to 
trace  out  for  himself  more  completely  any  subject  connected 
with  the  text  in  which  he  may  feel  a  peculiar  interest.  It 
should  be  recognized  that  notes  are  of  value  only  as  they 
develop  power  to  read  intelligently.  If  unintelligently  relied 
upon,  they  may  even  foster  indifference  and  lazy  mental 
habits. 

I  wish  to  express  my  obligation  to  Miss  Flora  Bridges, 
whose  careful  reading  of  the  manuscript  has  been  most 
helpful,  and  to  Professor  Clara  F.  Stevens,  the  head  of  the 
English  Department  at  Mount  Holyoke  College,  whose  very 
practical  aid  made  this  volume  possible. 

A.  L.  F.  S. 


INTRODUCTION 

I 

THE  LIFE  OF  HUXLEY 

OF  Huxley's  life  and  of  the  forces  which  moulded  his 
thought,  the  Autobiography  gives  some  account ;  but  many 
facts  which  are  significant  are  slighted,  and  necessarily  the 
later  events  of  his  life  are  omitted.  To  supplement  the  story 
as  given  by  him  is  the  purpose  of  this  sketch.  The  facts 
for  this  account  are  gathered  entirely  from  the  Life  and 
Letters  of  Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  by  his  son.  For  a  real 
acquaintance  with  Huxley,  the  student  should  consult  this 
source  for  himself ;  he  will  count  the  reading  of  the  Life 
and  Letters  among  the  rare  pleasures  which  have  come  to 
him  through  books. 

Thomas  Henry  Huxley  was  born  on  May  4,  1825.  His 
autobiography  gives  a  full  account  of  his  parents,  his  early 
Early  boyhood,  and  his  education.  Of  formal  education, 

education.  Huxley  had  little  ;  but  he  had  the  richer  school- 
ing which  nature  and  life  give  an  eager  mind.  He  read 
widely  ;  he  talked  often  with  older  people ;  he  was  always 
investigating  the  why  of  things.  He  kept  a  journal  in 
which  he  noted  thoughts  gathered  from  books,  and  ideas 
on  the  causes  of  certain  phenomena.  In  this  journal  he 
frequently  wrote  what  he  had  done  and  had  set  himself  to 
do  in  the  way  of  increasing  his  knowledge.  Self-conducted, 
also,  was  his  later  education  at  the  Charing  Cross  Hospital. 
Here,  like  Stevenson  in  his  university  days,  Huxley  seemed 
to  be  idle,  but  in  reality,  he  was  always  busy  on  his  own 
private  end.  So  constantly  did  he  work  over  the  microscope 
that  the  window  at  which  he  sat  came  to  be  dubbed  by 
his  fellow  students  "  The  Sign  of  the  Head  and  Micro- 
scope." Moreover,  in  his  regular  courses  at  Charing  Cross, 
he  seems  to  have  done  work  sufficiently  notable  to  be 
recognized  by  several  prizes  and  a  gold  medal. 


INTRODUCTION  v 

Of  his  life  after  the  completion  of  his  medical  course, 
of  his  search  for  work,  of  his  appointment  as  assistant 
surgeon  on  board  the  Rattlesnake,  and  of  his   search 
scientific  work   during    the  four  years'   cruise,   forwort 
Huxley  gives  a  vivid  description  in  the  autobiography.  As 
a  result  of  his  investigations  on  this  voyage,  he  published 
various  essays  which  quickly  secured  for  him  a  position  in 
the  scientific  world  as  a  naturalist  of  the  first  rank.  A 
testimony  of  the  value  of  this  work  was  his  election  to 
membership  in  the  Royal  Society. 

Although  Huxley  had  now,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six, 
won  distinction  in  science,  he  soon  discovered  that  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  earn  bread  thereby.  Nevertheless,  to  earn 
a  living  was  most  important  if  he  were  to  accomplish  the 
two  objects  which  he  had  in  view.  He  wished,  in  the  first 
place,  to  marry  Miss  Henrietta  Heathorn  of  Sydney,  to 
whom  he  had  become  engaged  when  on  the  cruise  with  the 
Rattlesnake ;  his  second  object  was  to  follow  science  as  a 
profession.  The  struggle  to  find  something  connected  with 
science  which  would  pay  was  long  and  bitter ;  and  only 
a  resolute  determination  to  win  kept  Huxley  from  aban- 
doning it  altogether.  Uniform  ill-luck  met  him  everywhere. 
He  has  told  in  his  autobiography  of  his  troubles  with  the 
Admiralty  in  the  endeavor  to  get  his  papers  published, 
and  of  his  failure  there.  He  applied  for  a  position  to  teach 
science  in  Toronto ;  being  unsuccessful  in  this  attempt, 
he  applied  successively  for  various  professorships  in  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  in  this  he  was  likewise  unsuccessful. 
Some  of  his  friends  urged  him  to  hold  out,  but  others 
thought  the  fight  an  unequal  one,  and  advised  him  to  emi- 
grate to  Australia.  He  himself  was  tempted  to  practice 
medicine  in  Sydney ;  but  to  give  up  his  purpose  seemed  to 
him  like  cowardice.  On  the  other  hand,  to  prolong  the 
struggle  indefinitely  when  he  might  quickly  earn  a  living 
in  other  ways  seemed  like  selfishness  and  an  injustice  to 
the  woman  to  whom  he  had  been  for  a  long  time  engaged. 
Miss  Heathorn,  however,  upheld  him  in  his  determination 
to  pursue  science  ;  and  his  sister  also,  he  writes,  cheered  him 
by  her  advice  and  encouragement  to  persist  in  the  struggle. 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

Something  of  the  man's  heroic  temper  may  be  gathered 
from  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Miss  Heathorn  when  his 
affairs  were  darkest.  "  However  painful  our  separation 
may  be,"  he  says,  "  the  spectacle  of  a  man  who  had  given 
up  the  cherished  purpose  of  his  life  .  .  .  would,  before 
long  years  were  over  our  heads,  be  infinitely  more  painful." 
He  declares  that  he  is  hemmed  in  by  all  sorts  of  difficul- 
ties. "  Nevertheless  the  path  has  shown  itself  a  fair  one, 
neither  more  difficult  nor  less  so  than  most  paths  in  life  in 
which  a  man  of  energy  may  hope  to  do  much  if  he  believes 
in  himself,  and  is  at  peace  within."  Thus  relieved  in  mind, 
he  makes  his  decision  in  spite  of  adverse  fate.  "  My  course 
of  life  is  taken,  I  will  not  leave  London  —  I  will  make 
myself  a  name  and  a  position  as  well  as  an  income  by  some 
kind  of  pursuit  connected  with  science  which  is  the  thing 
for  which  Nature  has  fitted  me  if  she  has  ever  fitted  any 
one  for  anything." 

But  suddenly  the  long  wait,  the  faith  in  self,  were 
justified,  and  the  turning  point  came.  "There  is  always 
a  Cape  Horn  in  one's  life  that  one  either  weathers  or  wrecks 
one's  self  on,"  he  writes  to  his  sister.  "Thank  God,  I 
think  I  may  say  I  have  weathered  mine  —  not  without  a 
good  deal  of  damage  to  spars  and  rigging  though,  for  it 
blew  deuced  hard  on  the  other  side."  In  1854  a  permament 
Lecture-  lectureship  was  offered  him  at  the  Government 
sMps.  School  of  Mines;  also,  a  lectureship  at  St. 

Thomas'  Hospital ;  and  he  was  asked  to  give  various  other 
lecture  courses.  He  thus  found  himself  able  to  establish 
the  home  for  which  he  had  waited  eight  years.  In  July, 
1855,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Heathorn. 

The  succeeding  years  from  1855  to  1860  were  filled  with 
various  kinds  of  work  connected  with  science  :  original 
investigation,  printing  of  monographs,  and  establishing  of 
natural  history  museums.  His  advice  concerning  local  mu- 
seums is  interesting  and  characteristically  expressed.  "It 
[the  local  museum  if  properly  arranged]  will  tell  both  na- 
tives and  strangers  exactly  what  they  want  to  know,  and 
possess  great  scientific  interest  and  importance.  Whereas 
the  ordinary  lumber-room  of  clubs  from  New  Zealand, 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

Hindu  idols,  sharks'  teeth,  mangy  monkeys,  scorpions,  and 
conch  shells  —  who  shall  describe  the  weary  inutility  of 
it?  It  is  really  worse  than  nothing,  because  it  leads  the 
unwary  to  look  for  objects  of  science  elsewhere  than  under 
their  noses.  What  they  want  to  know  is  that  their  '  Amer- 
ica is  here,'  as  Wilhelm  Meister  has  it."  During  this 
period,  also,  he  began  his  lectures  to  workingmen,  calling 
them  Peoples'  Lectures.  "Popular  lectures,"  he  said,  "I 
hold  to  be  an  abomination  unto  the  Lord."  Working- 
men  attended  these  lectures  in  great  numbers,  and  to  them 
Huxley  seemed  to  be  always  able  to  speak  at  his  best.  His 
purpose  in  giving  these  lectures  should  be  expressed  in  his 
own  words :  "  I  want  the  working  class  to  understand  that 
Science  and  her  ways  are  great  facts  for  them  —  that  phys- 
ical virtue  is  the  base  of  all  other,  and  that  they  are  to  be 
clean  and  temperate  and  all  the  rest  —  not  because  fellows 
in  black  and  white  ties  tell  them  so,  but  because  there  are 
plain  and  patent  laws  which  they  must  obey  '  under  pen- 
alties.' " 

Toward  the  close  of  1859,  Darwin's  «  Origin  of  Species  " 
•was  published.  It  raised  a  great  outcry  in  England ;  and 
Huxley  immediately  came  forward  as  chief  de-  Attitnfle 
fender  of  the  faith  therein  set  forth.  He  took  toward 
part  in  debates  on  this  subject,  the  most  famous  evolutiolL 
of  which  was  the  one  between  himself  and  Bishop  Wilber- 
force  at  Oxford.  The  Bishop  concluded  his  speech  by 
turning  to  Huxley  and  asking,  "  Was  it  through  his  grand- 
father or  grandmother  that  he  claimed  descent  from  a 
monkey?"  Huxley,  as  is  reported  by  an  eye-witness, 
"  slowly  and  deliberately  arose.  A  slight  tall  figure,  stern 
and  pale,  very  quiet  and  grave,  he  stood  before  us  and 
spoke  those  tremendous  words.  .  .  .  He  was  not  ashamed 
to  have  a  monkey  for  an  ancestor  ;  but  he  would  be  ashamed 
to  be  connected  with  a  man  who  used  great  gifts  to  obscure 
the  truth."  Another  story  indicates  the  temper  of  that 
time.  Carlyle,  whose  writing  had  strongly  influenced  Hux- 
ley, and  whom  Huxley  had  come  to  know,  could  not  for- 
give him  for  his  attitude  toward  evolution.  One  day,  years 
after  the  publication  of  Man's  Place  in  Nature,  Huxley, 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

seeing  Carlyle  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  a  broken, 
pathetic  figure,  walked  over  and  spoke  to  him.  The  old 
man  merely  remarked,  "  You  're  Huxley,  are  n't  you  ?  the 
man  that  says  we  are  all  descended  from  monkeys,"  and 
passed  on.  Huxley,  however,  saw  nothing  degrading  to 
man's  dignity  in  the  theory  of  evolution.  In  a  wonderfully 
fine  sentence  he  gives  his  own  estimate  of  the  theory  as  it 
affects  man's  future  on  earth.  "  Thoughtful  men  once  es- 
caped from  the  blinding  influences  of  traditional  prejudices, 
will  find  in  the  lowly  stock  whence  man  has  sprung  the 
best  evidence  of  the  splendour  of  his  capacities;  and  will 
discover,  in  his  long  progress  through  the  past,  a  reasonable 
ground  of  faith  in  his  attainment  of  a  nobler  future."  As 
a  result  of  all  these  controversies  on  The  Origin  of  Species 
and  of  investigations  to  uphold  Darwin's  theory,  Huxley 
wrote  his  first  book,  already  mentioned,  Man's  Place  in 
Nature. 

To  read  a  list  of  the  various  kinds  of  work  which  Hux- 
ley was  doing  from  1870  to  1875  is  to  be  convinced  of  his 
Establiali.  abundant  energy  and  many  interests.  At  about 
xnent  oi  this  time  Huxley  executed  the  plan  which  he 
toriM.  had  had  in  mind  for  a  long  time,  the  establish- 

ment of  laboratories  for  the  use  of  students.  His  object 
was  to  furnish  a  more  exact  preliminary  training.  He  com- 
plains that  the  student  who  enters  the  medical  school  is 
' '  so  habituated  to  learn  only  from  books,  or  oral  teaching, 
that  the  attempt  to  learn  from  things  and  to  get  his  know- 
ledge at  first  hand  is  something  new  and  strange."  To 
make  this  method  of  teaching  successful  in  the  schools, 
Huxley  gave  practical  instruction  in  laboratory  work  to 
school-masters. 

"  If  I  am  to  be  remembered  at  all,"  Huxley  once  wrote, 
"  I  would  rather  it  should  be  as  a  man  who  did  his  best 
to  help  the  people  than  by  any  other  title."  Certainly  as 
much  of  his  time  as  could  be  spared  from  his  regular  work 
was  given  to  help  others.  His  lectures  to  workingmen 
and  school-masters  have  already  been  mentioned.  In  addi- 
tion, he  lectured  to  women  on  physiology  and  to  children 
on  elementary  science.  In  order  to  be  of  greater  service  to 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

the  children,  Huxley,  in  spite  of  delicate  health,  became  a 
member  of  the  London  School  Board.  His  immediate  ob- 
ject was  "  to  temper  book-learning  with  something  Servlce  to 
of  the  direct  knowledge  of  Nature."  His  other  pur-  women  and 
poses  were  to  secure  a  better  physical  training  for 
children  and  to  give  them  a  clearer  understanding  of  social 
and  moral  law.  He  did  not  believe,  on  the  one  hand,  in 
overcrowding  the  curriculum,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
"  felt  that  all  education  should  be  thrown  open  to  all  that 
each  man  might  know  to  what  state  in  life  he  was  called  " 
Another  statement  of  his  purpose  and  beliefs  is  given  by 
Professor  Gladstone,  who  says  of  his  work  on  the  board : 
"  He  resented  the  idea  that  schools  were  to  train  either 
congregations  for  churches  or  hands  for  factories.  He  was 
on  the  Board  as  a  friend  of  children.  What  he  sought  to 
do  for  the  child  was  for  the  child's  sake,  that  it  might  live 
a  fuller,  truer,  worthier  life." 

The  immense  amount  of  work  which  Huxley  did  in 
these  years  told  very  seriously  on  his  naturally  weak  con- 
stitution. It  became  necessary  for  him  finally  vacations 
for  two  successive  years  to  stop  work  altogether.  ateoad- 
In  1872  he  went  to  the  Mediterranean  and  to  Egypt.  This 
was  a  holiday  full  of  interest  for  a  man  like  Huxley  who 
looked  upon  the  history  of  the  world  and  man's  place  in 
the  world  with  a  keen  scientific  mind.  Added  to  this  sci- 
entific bent  of  mind,  moreover,  Huxley  had  a  deep  appre- 
ciation for  the  picturesque  in  nature  and  life.  Bits  of  de- 
scription indicate  his  enjoyment  in  this  vacation.  He  writes 
of  his  entrance  to  the  Mediterranean,  "It  was  a  lovely 
morning,  and  nothing  could  be  grander  than  Ape  Hill  on 
one  side  and  the  Rock  on  the  other,  looking  like  great  lions 
or  sphinxes  on  each  side  of  a  gateway."  In  Cairo,  Huxley 
found  much  to  interest  him  in  archaeology,  geology,  and 
the  every-day  life  of  the  streets.  At  the  end  of  a  month,  he 
writes  that  he  is  very  well  and  very  grateful  to  Old  Nile 
for  all  that  he  has  done  for  him,  not  the  least  "  for  a  whole 
universe  of  new  thoughts  and  pictures  of  life."  The  trip, 
however,  did  no  lasting  good.  In  1873  Huxley  was  again 
very  ill,  but  was  under  such  heavy  costs  at  this  time  that 


x  INTRODUCTION 

another  vacation  was  impossible.  At  this  moment,  a  criti- 
cal one  in  his  life,  some  of  his  close  scientific  friends  placed 
to  his  credit  twenty-one  hundred  pounds  to  enable  him  to 
take  the  much  needed  rest.  Darwin  wrote  to  Huxley  con- 
cerning the  gift :  "  In  doing  this  we  are  convinced  that 
we  act  for  the  public  interest."  He  assured  Huxley  that 
the  friends  who  gave  this  felt  toward  him  as  a  brother. 
"  I  am  sure  that  you  will  return  this  feeling  and  will 
therefore  be  glad  to  give  us  the  opportunity  of  aiding  you 
in  some  degree,  as  this  will  be  a  happiness  to  us  to  the 
last  day  of  our  lives."  The  gift  made  it  possible  for  Hux- 
ley to  take  another  long  vacation,  part  of  which  was  spent 
with  Sir  Joseph  Hooker,  a  noted  English  botanist,  visiting 
the  volcanoes  of  Auvergne.  After  this  trip  he  steadily 
improved  in  health,  with  no  other  serious  illness  for  ten 
years. 

In  1876  Huxley  was  invited  to  visit  America  and  to 
deliver  the  inaugural  address  at  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
Vislt  to  sity-  1°  Juty  °f  this  year  accordingly,  in  company 
America.  with  his  wife,  he  crossed  to  New  York.  Every- 
where Huxley  was  received  \nth  enthusiasm,  for  his  name 
was  a  very  familiar  one.  Two  quotations  from  his  address 
at  Johns  Hopkins  are  especially  worthy  of  attention  as  a 
part  of  his  message  to  Americans.  "It  has  been  my  fate 
to  see  great  educational  funds  fossilise  into  mere  bricks 
and  mortar  in  the  petrifying  springs  of  architecture,  with 
nothing  left  to  work  them.  A  great  warrior  is  said  to  have 
made  a  desert  and  called  it  peace.  Trustees  have  sometimes 
made  a  palace  and  called  it  a  university." 

The  second  quotation  is  as  follows  :  — 

I  cannot  say  that  I  am  in  the  slightest  degree  impressed  by 
your  bigness  or  your  material  resources,  as  such.  Size  is  not 
grandeur,  territory  does  not  make  a  nation.  The  great  issue, 
about  which  hangs  true  sublimity,  and  the  terror  of  overhanging 
fate,  is,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  these  things  ?  .  .  . 

The  one  condition  of  success,  your  sole  safeguard,  is  the  moral 
worth  and  intellectual  clearness  of  the  individual  citizen.  Edu- 
cation cannot  give  these,  but  it  can  cherish  them  and  bring  them 
to  the  front  in  whatever  station  of  society  they  are  to  be  found, 
and  the  universities  ought  to  be,  and  may  be,  the  fortresses  of 
the  higher  life  of  the  nation. 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

After  the  return  from  America,  the  same  innumerable 
occupations  were  continued.  It  would  be  impossible  in 
short  space  even  to  enumerate  all  Huxley's  various  publi- 
cations of  the  next  ten  years.  His  work,  however,  A(tal^i^ 
changed  gradually  from  scientific  investigation  tratlve 
to  administrative  work,  not  the  least  important  * 
of  which  was  the  office  of  Inspector  of  Fisheries.  A  second 
important  office  was  the  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Society. 
Of  the  work  of  this  society  Sir  Joseph  Hooker  writes : 
"The  duties  of  the  office  are  manifold  and  heavy;  they 
include  attendance  at  all  the  meetings  of  the  Fellows,  and 
of  the  councils,  committees,  and  sub-committees  of  the 
Society,  and  especially  the  supervision  of  the  printing  and 
illustrating  all  papers  on  biological  subjects  that  are  pub- 
lished in  the  Society's  Transactions  and  Proceedings ;  the 
latter  often  involving  a  protracted  correspondence  with  the 
authors.  To  this  muot  be  added  a  share  in  the  supervision, 
of  the  staff  officers,  of  the  library  and  correspondence,  and 
the  details  of  house-keeping."  All  the  work  connected  with 
this  and  many  other  offices  bespeaks  a  life  too  hard-driven 
and  accounts  fully  for  the  continued  ill-health  which 
finally  resulted  in  a  complete  break-down. 

Huxley  had  always  advocated  that  the  age  of  sixty  was 
the  time  for  "official  death,"  and  had  looked  forward  to  a 
peaceful  "  Indian  summer.'"  With  this  object  pms^t 
in  mind  and  troubled  by  increasing  ill-health,  he  °*  health, 
began  in  1885  to  give  up  his  work.  But  to  live  even  in 
comparative  idleness,  after  so  many  years  of  activity,  was 
difficult.  <f  I  am  sure,"  he  says,  "  that  the  habit  of  incessant 
work  into  which  we  all  drift  is  as  bad  in  its  way  as 
dram-drinking.  In  time  you  cannot  be  comfortable  without 
stimulus."  But  continued  bodily  weakness  told  upon  him  to 
the  extent  that  all  work  became  distasteful.  An  utter  weari- 
ness with  frequent  spells  of  the  blues  took  possession  of 
him ;  and  the  story  of  his  life  for  some  years  is  the  story 
of  the  long  pursuit  of  health  in  England,  Switzerland,  and 
especially  in  Italy. 

Although  Huxley  was  wretchedly  ill  during  this  period, 
he  wrote  letters  which  are  good  to  read  for  their  humor 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

and  for  their  pictures  of  foreign  cities.  Rome  he  writes  of 
as  an  idle,  afternoony  sort  of  place  from  which  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  depart.  He  worked  as  eagerly  over  the  historic 
remains  in  Rome  as  he  would  over  a  collection  of  geological 
specimens.  "  I  begin  to  understand  Old  Rome  pretty  well 
and  I  am  quite  learned  in  the  Catacombs,  which  suit  me, 
as  a  kind  of  Christian  fossils  out  of  which  one  can  recon- 
struct the  body  of  the  primitive  Church."  Florence,  for  a 
man  with  a  conscience  and  ill-health,  had  too  many  picture 
galleries.  ' '  They  are  a  sore  burden  to  the  conscience  if  you 
don't  go  to  see  them,  and  an  awful  trial  to  the  back  and 
legs  if  you  do,"  he  complained.  He  found  Florence,  never- 
theless, a  lovely  place  and  full  of  most  interesting  things 
to  see  and  do.  His  letters  with  reference  to  himself  also 
are  vigorously  and  entertainingly  expressed.  He  writes  in 
a  characteristic  way  of  his  growing  difficulty  with  his  hear- 
ing. "  It  irritates  me  not  to  hear  ;  it  irritates  me  still  more 
to  be  spoken  to  as  if  I  were  deaf,  and  the  absurdity  of  being 
irritated  on  the  last  ground  irritates  me  still  more."  And 
again  he  writes  in  a  more  hopeful  strain,  "  With  fresh  air 
and  exercise  an_l  careful  avoidance  of  cold  and  night  air  I 
am  to  be  all  right  again."  He  then  adds :  "  I  am  not  fond 
of  coddling ;  but  as  Paddy  gave  his  pig  the  best  corner  in 
his  cabin  —  because  'shure,  he  paid  the  rint'  —  I  feel 
bound  to  take  care  of  myself  as  a  household  animal  of 
value,  to  say  nothing  of  other  points." 

Although  he  was  never  strong  after  this  long  illness, 
Huxley  began  in  1889  to  be  much  better.  The  first  sign 
Last  °f  returning  vigor  was  the  eagerness  with  which 

years.  he  entered  into  a  controversy  with  Gladstone. 

Huxley  had  always  enjoyed  a  mental  battle ;  and  some  of 
his  fiercest  tilts  were  with  Gladstone.  He  even  found  the 
cause  of  better  health  in  this  controversy,  and  was  grateful 
to  the  "  Grand  Old  Man  "  for  making  home  happy  for  him. 
From  this  time  to  his  death,  Huxley  wrote  a  number  of 
articles  on  politics,  science,  and  religion,  many  of  which 
were  published  in  the  volume  called  Controverted  Ques- 
tions. The  main  value  of  these  essays  lies  in  the  fact  that 
Huxley  calls  upon  men  to  give  clear  reasons  for  the  faith 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

which  they  claim  as  theirs,  and  makes,  as  a  friend  wrote 
of  him,  hazy  thinking  and  slovenly,  half-formed  conclu- 
sions seem  the  base  thing  they  really  are. 

The  last  years  of  Huxley's  life  were  indeed  the  longed- 
for  Indian  summer.  Away  from  the  noise  of  London  at 
Eastbourne  by  the  sea,  he  spent  many  happy  hours  with 
old-time  friends  and  in  his  garden,  which  was  a  great  joy 
to  him.  His  large  family  of  sons  and  daughters  and  grand- 
children brought  much  cheer  to  his  last  days.  Almost  to 
the  end  he  was  working  and  writing  for  publication.  Three 
days  before  his  death  he  wrote  to  his  old  friend,  Hooker, 
that  he  did  n't  feel  at  all  like  "  sending  in  his  checks  "  and 
hoped  to  recover.  He  died  very  quietly  on  June  29,  1895. 
That  he  met  death  with  the  same  calm  faith  and  strength 
with  which  he  had  met  life  is  indicated  by  the  lines  which 
his  wife  wrote  and  which  he  requested  to  be  his  epitaph :  — 

Be  not  afraid,  ye  waiting  hearts  that  weep  ; 
For  still  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep, 
And  if  an  endless  sleep  He  wills,  so  best. 


To  attempt  an  analysis  of  Huxley's  character,  unique 
and  bafflingly  complex  as  it  is,  is  beyond  the  scope  of  this 
sketch ;  but  to  give  only  the  mere  facts  of  his  life  is  to  do 
an  injustice  to  the  vivid  personality  of  the  man  as  it  is 
revealed  in  his  letters.  All  his  human  interest  _  , 
in  people  and  things  —  pets,  and  flowers,  and  " 


family  —  brightens  many  pages  of  the  two  pon- 
derous volumes.  Now  one  reads  of  his  grief  over  some 
backward-going  plant,  or  over  some  garden  tragedy,  as  "  A 
lovely  clematis  in  full  flower,  which  I  had  spent  hours  in 
nailing  up,  has  just  died  suddenly.  I  am  more  inconsolable 
than  Jonah ! "  Now  one  is  amused  with  a  nonsense  letter 
to  one  of  his  children,  and  again  with  an  account  of  a  pet. 

"I  wish  you  would  write  seriously  to  M .   She  is  not 

behaving  well  to  Oliver.    I  have  seen  handsomer  kittens, 
but  few  more  lively,  and  energetically  destructive.   Just 

now  he  scratched  away  at  something  M says  cost  13s. 

6d.   a  yard  and  reduced  more  or  less  of  it  to  combings. 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

M therefore  excludes  him  from  the  dining-room  and 

all  those  opportunities  of  higher  education  which  he  would 
have  in  my  house."  Frequently  one  finds  a  description  of 
some  event,  so  vividly  done  that  the  mere  reading  of  it 
seems  like  a  real  experience.  An  account  of  Tennyson's 
burial  in  Westminster  is  a  typical  bit  of  description:  — 

Bright  sunshine  streamed  through  the  windows  of  the  nave, 
while  the  choir  was  in  half  gloom,  and  as  each  shaft  of  light 
illuminated  the  flower-covered  bier  as  it  slowly  travelled  on,  one 
thought  of  the  bright  succession  of  his  works 'between  the  dark- 
ness before  and  the  darkness  after.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the 
Royal  Society  was  represented  by  four  of  its  chief  officers,  and 
nine  of  the  commonalty,  including  myself.  Tennyson  has  a  right 
to  that,  as  the  first  poet  since  Lucretius  who  has  understood  the 
drift  of  science. 

No  parts  of  the  Life  and  Letters  are  more  enjoyable 
than  those  concerning  the  "  Happy  Family,"  as  a  friend 
Family  °f  Huxley's  names  his  household.  His  family  of 
Uie<  seven  children  found  their  father  a  most  engag- 

ing friend  and  companion.  He  could  tell  them  wonderful 
sea  stories  and  animal  stories  and  could  draw  fascinating 
pictures.  His  son  writes  of  how  when  he  was  ill  with  scarlet 
fever  he  used  to  look  forward  to  his  father's  home-com- 
ing. "  The  solitary  days  —  for  I  was  the  first  victim  in 
the  family  —  were  very  long,  and  I  looked  forward  with 
intense  interest  to  one  half-hour  after  dinner,  when  he 
would  come  up  and  draw  scenes  from  the  history  of  a  re- 
markable bull-terrier  and  his  family  that  went  to  the  sea- 
side in  a  most  human  and  child-delighting  manner.  I  have 
seldom  suffered  a  greater  disappointment  than  when,  one 
evening,  I  fell  asleep  just  before  this  fairy  half-hour,  and 
lost  it  out  of  my  life." 

The  account  of  the  comradeship  between  Huxley  and 
his  wife  reads  like  a  good  old-time  romance.  He  was  at- 
tracted to  her  at  first  by  her ''simplicity  and  directness 
united  with  an  unusual  degree  of  cultivation,"  Huxley's 
son  writes.  On  her  he  depended  for  advice  in  his  work, 
and  for  companionship  at  home  and  abroad  when  wander- 
ing in  search  of  health  in  Italy  and  Switzerland.  When 
he  had  been  separated  from  her  for  some  time,  he  wrote, 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

"Nobody,  children  or  anyone  else,  can  be  to  me  what  you 
are.  Ulysses  preferred  his  old  woman  to  immortality,  and 
this  absence  has  led  me  to  see  that  he  was  as  wise  in  that 
as  in  other  things."  Again  he  writes,  "  Against  all  trouble 
(and  I  have  had  my  share)  I  weigh  a  wife-comrade  '  trew 
and  fest'  in  all  emergencies." 

The  letters  also  give  one  a  clear  idea  of  the  breadth  of 
Huxley's  interests,  particularly  of  his  appreciation  of  the 
various  forms  of  art.  Huxley  believed  strongly 
in  the  arts  as  a  refining  and  helpful  influence  in  tionof 
education.  He  keenly  enjoyed  good  music.  Pro- 
fessor Hewes  writes  of  him  that  one  breaking  in  upon  him 
in  the  afternoon  at  South  Kensington  would  not  infre- 
quently be  met  "with  a  snatch  of  some  melody  of  Bach's 
fugue."  He  also  liked  good  pictures,  and  always  had  among 
his  friends  well-known  artists,  as  Alma-Tadema,  Sir  Fred- 
erick Leighton,  and  Burne-Jones.  He  read  poetry  widely, 
and  strongly  advocated  the  teaching  of  poetry  in  English 
schools.  As  to  poetry,  his  own  preferences  are  interesting. 
Wordsworth  he  considered  too  discursive;  Shelley  was  too 
diffuse ;  Keats,  he  liked  for  pure  beauty,  Browning  for 
strength,  and  Tennyson  for  his  understanding  of  modern 
science;  but  most  frequently  of  all  he  read  Milton  and 
Shakespeare. 

As  to  Huxley's  appearance,  and  as  to  the  impression 
which  his  personality  made  upon  others,  the  description 
of  a  friend,  Mr.  G.  W.  Smalley,  presents  him 
with  striking  force.  "  The  square  forehead,  the  * 
square  jaw,  the  tense  lines  of  the  mouth,  the  deep  flashing 
dark  eyes,  the  impression  of  something  more  than  strength 
he  gave  you,  an  impression  of  sincerity,  of  solid  force,  of 
immovability,  yet  with  the  gentleness  arising  from  the 
serene  consciousness  of  his  strength  —  all  this  belonged  to 
Huxley  and  to  him  alone.  The  first  glance  magnetized  his 
audience.  The  eyes  were  those  of  one  accustomed  to  com- 
mand, of  one  having  authority,  and  not  fearing  on  occasion 
to  use  it.  The  hair  swept  carelessly  away  from  the  broad 
forehead  and  grew  rather  long  behind,  yet  the  length  did 
not  suggest,  as  it  often  does,  effeminacy.  He  was  masculine 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

in  everything  —  look,  gesture,  speech.  Sparing  of  gesture, 
sparing  of  emphasis,  careless  of  mere  rhetorical  or  orator- 
ical art,  he  had  nevertheless  the  secret  of  the  highest  art 
of  all,  whether  in  oratory  or  whatever  else  —  he  had  sim- 
plicity." 

Simplicity,  directness,  sincerity,  —  all  these  qualities 
describe  Huxley;  but  the  one  attribute  which  distinguishes 
Dlstin  kim  above  all  others  is  love  of  truth.  A  love  ol 

guishing  truth,  as  the  phrase  characterizes  Huxley,  would 
attributes.  necessarj}y  produce  a  scholarly  habit  of  mind. 
It  was  the  zealous  search  for  truth  which  determined  his 
method  of  work.  In  science,  Huxley  would  "  take  at  sec- 
ond hand  nothing  for  which  he  vouched  in  teaching."  Some 
one  reproached  him  for  wasting  time  verifying  what  another 
had  already  done.  "  If  that  is  his  practice,"  he  commented, 
"his  work  will  never  live."  The  same  motive  made  him 
a  master  of  languages.  To  be  able  to  read  at  first  hand  the 
writings  of  other  nations,  he  learned  German,  French, 
Italian,  and  Greek.  One  of  the  chief  reasons  for  learning 
to  read  Greek  was  to  see  for  himself  if  Aristotle  really 
did  say  that  the  heart  had  only  three  chambers — an  error, 
he  discovered,  not  of  Aristotle,  but  of  the  translator.  It 
was,  moreover,  the  scholar  in  Huxley  which  made  him  im- 
patient of  narrow,  half-formed,  foggy  conclusions.  His  own 
work  has  all  the  breadth  and  freedom  and  universality  of 
the  scholar,  but  it  has,  also,  a  quality  equally  distinctive 
of  the  scholar,  namely,  an  infinite  precision  in  the  matter 
of  detail. 

If  love  of  truth  made  Huxley  a  scholar,  it  made  him, 
also,  a  courageous  fighter.  Man's  first  duty,  as  he  saw  it, 
A  coura-  was  to  see^  ^e  truth  ;  his  second  was  to  teach 
geous  it  to  others,  and,  if  necessary,  to  contend  valiantly 

g  ter>  for  it.  To  fail  to  teach  what  you  honestly  know 
to  be  true,  because  it  may  harm  your  reputation,  or  even 
because  it  may  give  pain  to  others,  is  cowardice.  "I  am 
not  greatly  concerned  about  any  reputation,"  Huxley  writes 
to  his  wife,  "  except  that  of  being  entirely  honest  and 
straightforward."  Regardless  of  warnings  that  the  publica- 
tion of  Man's  Place  in  Nature  would  ruin  his  career, 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

Huxley  passed  on  to  others  what  nature  had  revealed  to 
him.  He  was  regardless,  also,  of  the  confusion  and  pain 
which  his  view  would  necessarily  bring  to  those  who  had 
been  nourished  in  old  traditions.  To  stand  with  a  man  or 
two  and  to  do  battle  with  the  world  on  the  score  of  its  old 
beliefs,  has  never  been  an  easy  task  since  the  world  began. 
Certainly  it  required  fearlessness  and  determination  to 
wrestle  with  the  prejudices  against  science  in  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century  —  how  much  may  be  gathered 
from  the  reading  of  Darwin's  Life  and  Letters.  The  atti- 
tude of  the  times  toward  science  has  already  been  indicated. 
One  may  be  allowed  to  give  one  more  example  from  the 
reported  address  of  a  clergyman.  "  0  ye  men  of  science,  ye 
men  of  science,  leave  us  our  ancestors  in  paradise,  and  you 
may  have  yours  in  Zoological  gardens."  The  war  was,  for 
the  most  part,  between  the  clergy  and  the  men  of  science, 
but  it  is  necessary  to  remember  that  Huxley  fought  not 
against  Christianity,  but  against  dogma  ;  that  he  fought  not 
against  the  past,  —  he  had  great  reverence  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  past,  —  but  against  unwillingness  to  accept 
the  new  truth  of  the  present. 

A  scholar  of  the  highest  type  and  a  fearless  defender  of 
true  and  honest  thinking,  Huxley  certainly  was:  but  the 
quality  which  gives  meaning  to  his  work,  which  A  scholar 
makes  it  live,  is  a  certain  human  quality  due  to 
the  fact  that  Huxley  was  always  keenly  alive  to 
the  relation  of  science  to  the  problems  of  life.  For  this 
reason,  he  was  not  content  with  the  mere  acquirement  of 
knowledge  ;  and  for  this  reason,  also,  he  could  not  quietly 
wait  until  the  world  should  come  to  his  way  of  thinking. 
Much  of  the  time,  therefore,  which  he  would  otherwise 
naturally  have  spent  in  research,  he  spent  in  contending 
for  and  in  endeavoring  to  popularize  the  facts  of  science. 
It  was  this  desire  to  make  his  ideas  prevail  that  led  Hux- 
ley to  work  for  a  mastery  of  the  technique  of  speaking  and 
writing.  He  hated  both,  but  -taught  himself  to  do  both 
well.  The  end  of  all  his  infinite  pains  about  his  writing 
was  not  because  style  for  its  own  sake  is  worth  while,  but 
because  he  saw  that  the  only  way  to  win  men  to  a  consid- 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

eration  of  his  message  was  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  and 
attractive  to  them.  Huxley's  message  to  the  people  was 
that  happiness,  usefulness,  and  even  material  prosperity 
depend  upon  an  understanding  of  the  laws  of  nature.  He 
also  taught  that  a  knowledge  of  the  facts  of  science  is  the 
soundest  basis  for  moral  law ;  that  a  clear  sense  of  the  pen- 
alties which  ^Nature  inflicts  for  disobedience  of  her  laws 
must  eventually  be  the  greatest  force  for  the  purification 
of  life.  If  he  was  to  be  remembered,  therefore,  he  desired 
that  he  should  be  remembered  primarily  as  one  who  had 
helped  the  people  "  to  think  truly  and  to  live  rightly." 
Huxley's  writing  is,  then,  something  more  than  a  scholarly 
exposition  of  abstruse  matter ;  for  it  has  been  further  de- 
voted to  the  increasing  of  man's  capacity  for  usefulness, 
and  to  the  betterment  of  his  life  here  on  earth. 


II 

SUBJECT-MATTER,    STRUCTURE,  AND  STYLE 

From   the  point  of  view  of  subject-matter,  structure, 
and  style,  Huxley's  essays  are  admirably  adapted  to  the  uses 
of  the  student  in  English.  The  themes  of  the  essays  are 
two,  education  and  science.  In  these  two  subjects 
and  Huxley  earnestly  sought  to  arouse  interest  and 

science.  ^  jmpar^  knowledge,  because  he  believed  that 
intelligence  in  these  matters  is  essential  for  the  advance- 
ment of  the  race  in  strength  and  morality.  Both  subjects, 
therefore,  should  be  valuable  to  the  student.  In  education, 
certainly,  he  should  be  interested,  since  it  is  his  main  occu- 
pation) if  not  his  chief  concern.  Essays  like  A  Liberal  Ed- 
ucation and  The  Principal  Subjects  of  Education  may 
suggest  to  him  the  meaning  of  all  his  work,  and  may  sug- 
gest, also,  the  things  which  it  would  be  well  for  him  to 
know ;  and,  even  more,  a  consideration  of  these  subjects 
may  arouse  him  to  a  greater  interest  and  responsibility  than 
he  usually  assumes  toward  his  own  mental  equipment.  Of 
greater  interest  probably  will  be  the  subjects  which  deal 
with  nature  ;  for  the  ways  of  nature  are  more  nearly  within 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

the  range  of  his  real  concerns  than  are  the  wherefores  of 
study.  The  story  of  the  formation  of  a  piece  of  chalk,  the 
suhstance  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  life,  the  habits  of 
sea  animals,  are  all  subjects  the  nature  of  which  is  akin  to 
his  own  eager  interest  in  the  world. 

Undoubtedly  the  subjects  about  which  Huxley  writes 
will  "  appeal "  to  the  student ;  but  it  is  in  analysis 
that  the  real  discipline  lies.  For  analysis  Huxley's  essays 
are  excellent.  They  illustrate  "the  clear  power  of  exposi- 
tion," and  such  power  is,  as  Huxley  wrote  to  Tyndall,  the 
one  quality  the  people  want, —  exposition  "  so  clear  that 
they  may  think  they  understand  even  if  they  don't." 
Huxley  obtains  that  perfect  clearness  in  his  own  work  by 
simple  definition,  by  keeping  steadily  before  his  Clearne 
audience  his  intention,  and  by  making  plain  by  simple 
throughout  his  lecture  a  well-defined  organic  d8flniti<m- 
structure.  No  X-ray  machine  is  needful  to  make  the  skel- 
eton visible  ;  it  stands  forth  with  the  parts  all  nicely  related 
and  compactly  joined.  In  reference  to  structure,  his  son  and 
biographer  writes,  "  He  loved  to  visualize  his  object  clearly. 
The  framework  of  what  he  wished  to  say  would  always  be 
drawn  out  first."  Professor  Ray  Lankester  also  mentions 
Huxley's  love  of  form.  "He  deals  with  form  not  only  as 
a  mechanical  engineer  in  partibus  (Huxley's  own  descrip- 
tion of  himself),  but  also  as  an  artist,  a  born  lover  of  form, 
a  character  which  others  recognize  in  him  though  he  does 
not  himself  set  it  down  in  his  analysis."  Huxley's  own 
account  of  his  efforts  to  shape  his  work  is  suggestive. 
"  The  fact  is  that  I  have  a  great  love  and  respect  for  my 
native  tongue,  and  take  great  pains  to  use  it  properly. 
Sometimes  I  write  essays  half-a-dozen  times  before  I  can 
get  them  into  proper  shape ;  and  I  believe  I  become  more 
fastidious  as  I  grow  older."  And,  indeed,  there  is  a  marked 
difference  in  firmness  of  structure  between  the  earlier 
essays,  such  as  On  the  Educational  Value  of  the  Natural 
History  Sciences,  written,  as  Huxley  acknowledges,  in 
great  haste,  and  the  later  essays,  such  as  A  Liberal  Edu- 
cation and  The  Method  of  Scientific  Investigation.  To 
trace  and  to  define  this  difference  will  be  most  helpful  to 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

the  student  who  is  building  up  a  knowledge  of  structure 
for  his  own  use. 

According  to  Huxley's  biographer  in  the  Life  and 
Letters  of  Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  the  essays  which  rep- 
resent him  at  his  best  are  those  published  in  1868.  They 
are  A  Piece  of  Chalk,  A  Liberal  Education,  and  On  the 
Physical  Basis  of  Life.  In  connection  with  the  comment 
on  these  essays  is  the  following  quotation  which  gives 
one  interesting  information  as  to  Huxley's  method  of  ob- 
taining a  clear  style  :  — 

This  lecture  on  A  Piece  of  Chalk  together  with  two  others  de- 
livered this  year,  seems  to  me  to  mark  the  maturing  of  his  style 
into  that  mastery  of  clear  expression  for  which  he  deliberately 
labored,  the  saying  exactly  what  he  meant,  neither  too  much 
nor  too  little,  without  confusion  and  without  obscurity.  Have 
something  to  say,  and  say  it,  was  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
theory  of  style ;  Huxley's  was  to  say  that  which  has  to  be  said 
in  such  language  that  you  can  stand  cross-examination  on  each 
word.  Be  clear,  though  you  may  be  convicted  of  error.  If  you 
are  clearly  wrong,  you  will  run  up  against  a  fact  sometime  and 
get  set  right.  If  you  shuffle  with  your  subject,  and  study  chiefly 
to  use  language  which  will  give  a  loophole  of  escape  either 
way,  there  is  no  hope  for  you. 

This  was  the  secret  of  his  lucidity.  In  no  one  could  Buffon's 
aphorism  on  style  find  a  better  illustration,  Le  style  c'est  I'homme 
meme.  In  him  science  and  literature,  too  often  divorced,  were 
closely  united ;  and  literature  owes  him  a  debt  for  importing  into 
it  so  much  of  the  highest  scientific  habit  of  mind  ;  for  showing 
that  truthfulness  need  not  be  bald,  and  that  real  power  lies  more 
in  exact  accuracy  than  in  luxuriance  of  diction. 

Huxley's  own  theory  as  to  how  clearness  is  to  be  ob- 
tained gets  at  the  root  of  the  matter.  "  For  my  part,  I 
venture  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  attempting  to  mould  one's 
style  by  any  other  process  than  that  of  striving  after  the 
clear  and  forcible  expression  of  definite  conceptions ;  in 
•which  process  the  Glassian  precept,  first  catch  your  de- 
finite conception,  is  probably  the  most  difficult  to  obey." 

Perfect  clearness,  above  every  other  quality  of  style, 
certainly  is  characteristic  of  Huxley ;  but  clearness  alone 
does  not  make  subject-matter  literature.  In  ad- 
quaiities  dition  to  this  quality,  Huxley's  writing  wins  the 
reader  by  the  racy  diction,  the  homely  illustra- 
tion, the  plain,  honest  phrasing.  All  these  and  other  qual- 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

ities  bring  one  into  an  intimate  relationship  with  his 
subject.  A  man  of  vast  technical  learning,  he  is  still  so 
interested  in  the  relation  of  his  facts  to  the  problems  of 
men  that  he  is  always  able  to  infuse  life  into  the  driest  of 
subjects,  in  other  words,  to  humanize  his  knowledge;  and 
in  the  estimation  of  Matthew  Arnold,  this  is  the  true  work 
of  the  scholar,  the  highest  mission  of  style. 


Ill 

SUGGESTED    STUDIES  IN  SUBJECT-MATTER,  STRUCTURE, 
AND  STYLE 

Although  fully  realizing  that  the  questions  here  given 
are  only  such  as  are  generally  used  everywhere  by  instruc- 
tors in  English,  the  editor  has,  nevertheless,  included  them 
with  the  hope  that  some  one  may  find  them  helpful. 

The  studies  given  include  a  few  general  questions  and 
suggestions  on  subject-matter,  structure,  and  style.  The 
questions  on  structure  are  based  on  an  anatysis  of  the  whole 
composition  and  of  the  paragraph ;  those  on  style  are  based 
on  a  study  of  sentences  and  words.  Such  a  division  of 
material  may  seem  unwarranted  ;  for,  it  may  be  urged,  firm- 
ness of  structure  depends,  to  a  certain  extent,  upon  sen- 
tence-form and  words ;  and  clearness  of  style,  to  a  large 
extent,  upon  the  form  of  the  paragraph  and  whole  com- 
position. The  two,  certainly,  cannot  be  in  justice  separated  ; 
and  especially  is  it  true,  more  deeply  true  than  the  average 
student  can  be  brought  to  believe,  that  structure,  "  mind,  in 
style  "  as  Pater  phrases  it,  primarily  determines  not  only 
clearness,  but  also  such  qualities  of  style  as  reserve,  refine- 
ment, and  simple  Doric  beauty.  Since,  however,  structure  is 
more  obviously  associated  with  the  larger  groups,  and  style 
with  the  smaller,  the  questions  have  been  arranged  accord- 
ing to  this  division. 

I.  Suggestions  for  the  Study  of  Subject-Matter. 

1.  To  whom  does  Huxley  address  the  essay? 

2.  Can  you  see  any  adaptation  of  his  material  to  his  audi- 

ence? 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

3.  How  would  A  Piece  of  Chalk  be  differently  presented  if 

given  before  a  science  club? 

4.  Does  Huxley  make  his  subject  interesting?  If  so,  how 

does  he  accomplish  this? 

5.  Is  the  personality  of  Huxley  suggested  by  the  essays?  See 
Life  and  Letters,  vol.  ii,  p.  293. 

II.  Suggestions  for  the  Study  of  Structure. 
A..  Analysis  of  the  whole  composition. 

1.  State  in  one  complete  sentence  the  theme  of  the  essay. 

2.  Analyze  the  essay  for  the  logical  development  of  the 

thought. 

a.  Questions  on  the  Introduction. 

In  the  introduction,  how  does  the  author  approach  his 

material? 

Does  he  give  the  main  points  of  the  essay? 
Does  he  give  his  reasons  for  writing? 
Does  he  narrow  his  subject  to  one  point  of  view? 
Is  the  introduction  a  digression? 

b.  Questions  on  the  Body. 

Can  you  find  large  groups  of  thought? 

Are  these  groups  closely  related  to  the  theme  and  to 

each  other? 

Do  you  find  any  digressions? 
Is  the  method  used  in  developing  the  groups  inductive 

or  deductive? 

Is  the  method  different  in  different  groups? 
Are  the  groups  arranged  for  good  emphasis  in  the 

whole  composition? 

c.  Questions  on  the  Conclusion. 

How  does  the  author  conclude  the  essay? 

Does  the  conclusion  sum  up  the  points  of  the  essay? 

Are  any  new  points  suggested? 

Is  the  thought  of  the  whole  essay  stated? 

Do  you  consider  it  a  strong  conclusion? 

3.  Make  out  an  outline  which  shall  picture  the  skeleton  of 

the  essay  studied.  In  making  the  outline  express  the 
topics  in  the  form  of  complete  statements,  phrase  the 
thought  for  clear  sequence,  and  be  careful  about  such 
matters  as  spacing  and  punctuation. 
B.  A  nalysis  of  paragraph  structure. 

1.  Can  a  paragraph  be  analyzed  in  the  same  manner  as  the 

whole  composition? 

2.  Can  you  express  the  thought  of  each  paragraph  in  a  com- 

plete sentence? 

3.  Can  you  find  different  points  presented  in  the  paragraph 

developing  the  paragraph  topic,  as  the  large  groups  of 
the  whole  composition  develop  the  theme? 

4.  Are  the  paragraphs  closely  related,  and  how  are  they 

bound  together? 

5.  Can  any  of  the  paragraphs  be  combined  to  advantage? 

6.  Read  from  Barrett  Wendell's  English  Composition  the 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

chapter  on  paragraphs.  Are  Huxley's  paragraphs  con- 
structed in  accordance  with  the  principles  given  in  this 
chapter  ? 
7.  Is  the  paragraph  type  varied?  For  paragraph  types,  see 

Scott  and  Denny's  Paragraph  Writing. 
C.  Comparative  study  of  the  structure  of  the  essay. 

1.  Do  you  find  any  difference  between  Huxley's  earlier  and 

later  essays  as  regards  the  structure  of  the  whole,  or 
the  structure  of  the  paragraph? 

2.  Which  essay  seems  to  you  to  be  most  successful  in  struc- 

ture? 

3.  Has  the  character  of  the  audience  any  influence  upon  the 

structure  of  the  essays? 

4.  Compare  the  structure  of  one  of  Huxley's  essays  with  that 

of  some  other  essay  recently  studied. 

5.  Has  the  nature  of  the  material  any  influence  upon  the 

structure  of  the  essay? 
III.  Suggestions  for  the  Study  of  Style. 

A.  Exactly  what  do  you  mean  by  style  f 

B.  Questions  on  sentence  structure. 

1.  From  any  given  essay,  group  together  sentences  which 

are  long,  short,  loose,  periodic,  balanced,  simple,  com- 
pound ;  note  those  peculiar,  for  any  reason,  to  Huxley. 

2.  Stevenson  says,  "The  one  rule  is  to  be  infinitely  various; 

to  interest,  to  disappoint,  to  surprise  and  still  to  gratify ; 
to  be  ever  changing,  as  it  were,  the  stitch,  and  yet  still 
to  give  the  effect  of  ingenious  neatness." 

Do  Huxley's  sentences  conform  to  Stevenson's  rule? 
Compare  Huxley's  sentences  with  Stevenson's  for  va- 
riety in  form.  Is  there  any  reason  for  the  difference 
between  the  form  of  the  two  writers? 

3.  Does  this  quotation  from  Pater's  essay  on  Style  describe 

Huxley's  sentences?  "The  blithe,  crisp  sentence,  deci- 
sive as  a  child's  expression  of  its  needs,  may  alternate 
with  the  long-contending,  victoriously  intricate  sen- 
tence; the  sentence,  born  with  the  integrity  of  a  single 
word,  relieving  the  sort  of  sentence  in  which,  if  you  look 
closely,  you  can  see  contrivance,  much  adjustment,  to 
bring  a  highly  qualified  matter  into  compass  at  one 
view." 

4.  How  do  Huxley's  sentences  compare  with  those  of  Ruskin, 

or  with  those  of  any  author  recently  studied? 

5.  Are  Huxley's  sentences  musical?  How  does  an  author 
make  his  sentences  musical? 

C.  Questions  on  words. 

1.  Do  you  find  evidence  of  exactness,  a  quality  which 

Huxley  said  he  labored  for? 

2.  Are  the  words  general  or  specific  in  character? 

3.  How  does  Huxley  make  his  subject-matter  attractive? 

4.  From  what  sources  does  Huxley  derive  his  words?  Are 

they  every -day  words,  or  more  scholarly  in  character? 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

5.  Do  you  find  any  figures?  Are  these  mainly  ornamental  or 

do  they  reenforce  the  thought? 

6.  Are  there  many  allusions  and  quotations?  Can  you  easily 

recognize  the  source? 

7.  Pater  says  in  his  essay  on  Style  that  the  literary  artist 

"begets  a  vocabulary  faithful  to  the  colouring  of  his 
own  spirit,  and  in  the  strictest  sense  original."  Do  you 
find  that  Huxley's  vocabulary  suggests  the  man? 

8.  Does  Huxley  seem  to  search  for  "  the  smooth,  or  win- 

some, or  forcible  word,  as  such,  or  quite  simply  and 
honestly,  for  the  word's  adjustment  to  its  meaning"? 

9.  Make  out  a  list  of  the  words  and  proper  names  in  any 

given  essay  which  are  not  familiar  to  you  ;  write  out 
the  explanation  of  these  in  the  form  of  notes  giving 
any  information  which  is  interesting  and  relevant. 
D.  General  questions  on  style. 

1.  How  is  Huxley's  style  adapted  to  the  subject-matter? 

2.  Can  you  explain  the  difference  in  style  of  the  different 

essays  by  the  difference  in  purpose? 

3.  Compare  Huxley's  way  of  saying  things  with  some  other 

author's  way  of  saying  things. 

4.  Huxley  says  of  his  essays  to  workingmen,  "  I  only  wish 

I  had  had  the  sense  to  anticipate  the  run  these  have 
had  here  and  abroad,  and  I  would  have  revised  them 
properly.  As  they  stand  they  are  terribly  in  the  rough, 
from  a  literary  point  of  view." 
Do  you  find  evidences  of  roughness? 


THOMAS  HENRY  HUXLEY 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

And  when  I  consider,  in  one  view,  the  many  things  .  .  .  which 
I  have  upon  my  hands,  I  feel  the  burlesque  of  being  employed  in 
this  manner  at  my  time  of  life.  But,  in  another  view,  and  taking  in 
all  circumstances,  these  things,  as  trifling  as  they  may  appear,  no  less 
than  things  of  greater  importance,  seem  to  be  put  upon  me  to  do.  — 
Bishop  Butler  to  the  Duchess  of  Somerset. 

THE  "  many  things  "  to  which  the  Duchess's  corre- 
spondent here  refers  are  the  repairs  and  improvements 
of  the  episcopal  seat  at  Auckland.  I  doubt  if  the  great 
apologist,  greater  in  nothing  than  in  the  simple  dignity 
of  his  character,  would  have  considered  the  writing  an 
account  of  himself  as  a  thing  which  could  be  put  upon 
him  to  do  whatever  circumstances  might  be  taken  in. 
But  the  good  bishop  lived  in  an  age  when  a  man 
might  write  books  and  yet  be  permitted  to  keep  his 
private  existence  to  himself;  in  the  pre-Boswellian 
epoch,  when  the  germ  of  the  photographer  lay  concealed 
in  the  distant  future,  and  the  interviewer  who  pervades 
our  age  was  an  unforeseen,  indeed  unimaginable,  birth 
of  time. 

At  present,  the  most  convinced  believer  in  the  aphor- 
ism "  Bene  qui  latuit,  bene  vixit,"  is  not  always  able  to 
act  up  to  it.  An  importunate  person  informs  him  that 
his  portrait  is  about  to  be  published  and  will  be  ac- 
companied by  a  biography  which  the  importunate 
person  proposes  to  write.  The  sufferer  knows  what  that 


2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

means ;  either  he  undertakes  to  revise  the  "  biography  " 
or  he  does  not.  In  the  former  case,  he  makes  himself 
responsible;  in  the  latter,  he  allows  the  publication  of 
a  mass  of  more  or  less  fulsome  inaccuracies  for  which 
he  will  be  held  responsible  by  those  who  are  familiar 
with  the  prevalent  art  of  self-advertisement.  On  the 
whole,  it  may  be  better  to  get  over  the  "  burlesque  of 
being  employed  in  this  manner  "  and  do  the  thing  him- 
self. 

It  was  by  reflections  of  this  kind  that,  some  years 
ago,  I  was  led  to  write  and  permit  the  publication  of 
the  subjoined  sketch. 

I  was  born  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  on 
the  4th  of  May,  1825,  at  Baling,  which  was,  at  that 
time,  as  quiet  a  little  country  village  as  could  be  found 
within  a  half-a-dozen  miles  of  Hyde  Park  Corner. 
Now  it  is  a  suburb  of  London  with,  I  believe,  30,000 
inhabitants.  My  father  was  one  of  the  masters  in  a 
large  semi-public  school  which  at  one  time  had  a  high 
reputation.  I  am  not  aware  that  any  portents  preceded 
my  arrival  in  this  world,  but,  in  my  childhood,  I  re- 
member hearing  a  traditional  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  I  lost  the  chance  of  an  endowment  of  great 
practical  value.  The  windows  of  my  mother's  room 
were  open,  in  consequence  of  the  unusual  warmth  of 
the  weather.  For  the  same  reason,  probably,  a  neigh- 
bouring beehive  had  swarmed,  and  the  new  colony, 
pitching  on  the  window-sill,  was  making  its  way  into 
the  room  when  the  horrified  nurse  shut  down  the  sash. 
If  that  well-meaning  woman  had  only  abstained  from 
her  ill-timed  interference,  the  swarm  might  have  settled 
on  my  lips,  and  I  should  have  been  endowed  with  that 
mellifluous  eloquence  which,  in  this  country,  leads  far 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  3 

more  surely  than  worth,  capacity,  or  honest  work, 
to  the  highest  places  in  Church  and  State.  But  the  op- 
portunity was  lost,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  content 
myself  through  life  with  saying  what  I  mean  in  the 
plainest  of  plain  language,  than  which,  I  suppose, 
there  is  no  habit  more  ruinous  to  a  man's  prospects 
of  advancement. 

Why  I  was  christened  Thomas  Henry  I  do  not 
know ;  but  it  is  a  curious  chance  that  my  parents  should 
have  fixed  for  my  usual  denomination  upon  the  name 
of  that  particular  Apostle  with  whom  I  have  always 
felt  most  sympathy.  Physically  and  mentally  I  am 
the  son  of  my  mother  so  completely  —  even  down  to 
peculiar  movements  of  the  hands,  which  made  their 
appearance  in  me  as  I  reached  the  age  she  had  when 
I  noticed  them  —  that  I  can  hardly  find  any  trace  of 
my  father  in  myself,  except  an  inborn  faculty  for 
drawing,  which  unfortunately,  in  my  case,  has  never 
been  cultivated,  a  hot  temper,  and  that  amount  of 
tenacity  of  purpose  which  unfriendly  observers  some- 
times call  obstinacy. 

My  mother  was  a  slender  brunette,  of  an  emotional 
and  energetic  temperament,  and  possessed  of  the 
most  piercing  black  eyes  I  ever  saw  in  a  woman's 
head.  With  no  more  education  than  other  women  of 
the  middle  classes  in  her  day,  she  had  an  excellent 
mental  capacity.  Her  most  distinguishing  characteris- 
tic, however,  was  rapidity  of  thought.  If  one  ventured 
to  suggest  she  had  not  taken  much  time  to  arrive  at  any 
conclusion,  she  would  say,  "I  cannot  help  it,  things 
flash  across  me."  That  peculiarity  has  been  passed  on 
to  me  in  full  strength ;  it  has  often  stood  me  in  good 
stead ;  it  has  sometimes  played  me  sad  tricks,  and  it 
has  always  been  a  danger.  But,  after  all,  if  my  time 


4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

were  to  come  over  again,  there  is  nothing  I  would  less 
willingly  part  with  than  my  inheritance  of  mother  wit. 

I  have  next  to  nothing  to  say  about  my  childhood.  In 
later  years  my  mother,  looking  at  me  almost  reproach- 
fully, would  sometimes  say,  "  Ah !  you  were  such  a 
pretty  boy!"  whence  I  had  no  difficulty  in  concluding 
that  I  had  not  fulfilled  my  early  promise  in  the  matter 
of  looks.  In  fact,  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  cer- 
tain curls  of  which  I  was  vain,  and  of  a  conviction  that 
I  closely  resembled  that  handsome,  courtly  gentleman, 
Sir  Herbert  Oakley,  who  was  vicar  of  our  parish,  and 
who  was  as  a  god  to  us  country  folk,  because  he  was 
occasionally  visited  by  the  then  Prince  George  of 
Cambridge.  I  remember  turning  my  pinafore  wrong 
side  forwards  in  order  to  represent  a  surplice,  and 
preaching  to  my  mother's  maids  in  the  kitchen  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  Sir  Herbert's  manner  one  Sunday 
morning  when  the  rest  of  the  family  were  at  church. 
That  is  the  earliest  indication  I  can  call  to  mind  of  the 
strong  clerical  affinities  which  my  friend  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer  has  always  ascribed  to  me,  though  I  fancy 
they  have  for  the  most  part  remained  in  a  latent  state. 

My  regular  school  training  was  of  the  briefest,  per- 
haps fortunately,  for  though  my  way  of  life  has  made 
me  acquainted  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  I  deliberately  affirm 
that  the  society  I  fell  into  at  school  was  the  worst  I 
have  ever  known.  We  boys  were  average  lads,  with 
much  the  same  inherent  capacity  for  good  and  evil 
as  any  others;  but  the  people  who  were  set  over  us 
cared  about  as  much  for  our  intellectual  and  moral 
welfare  as  if  they  were  baby-farmers.  We  were  left 
to  the  operation  of  the  struggle  for  existence  among 
ourselves,  and  bullying  was  the  least  of  the  ill  prac- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  5 

tices  current  among  us.  Almost  the  only  cheerful  rem- 
iniscence in  connection  with  the  place  which  arises 
in  my  mind  is  that  of  a  battle  I  had  with  one  of  my 
classmates,  who  had  bullied  me  until  I  could  stand 
it  no  longer.  I  was  a  very  slight  lad,  but  there  was  a 
wild-cat  element  in  me  which,  when  roused,  made  up 
for  lack  of  weight,  and  I  licked  my  adversary  effectu- 
ally. However,  one  of  my  first  experiences  of  the  ex- 
tremely rough-and-ready  nature  of  justice,  as  ex- 
hibited by  the  course  of  things  in  general,  arose  out  of 
the  fact  that  I  —  the  victor  —  had  a  black  eye,  while 
he  —  the  vanquished  —  had  none,  so  that  I  got  into 
disgrace  and  he  did  not.  We  made  it  up,  and  there- 
after I  was  unmolested.  One  of  the  greatest  shocks  I 
ever  received  in  my  life  was  to  be  told  a  dozen  years 
afterwards  by  the  groom  who  brought  me  my  horse 
in  a  stable-yard  in  Sydney  that  he  was  my  quondam 
antagonist.  He  had  a  long  story  of  family  misfortune 
to  account  for  his  position,  but  at  that  time  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  deal  very  cautiously  with  mysterious  stran- 
gers in  New  South  Wales,  and  on  inquiry  I  found  that 
the  unfortunate  young  man  had  not  only  been  "sent 
out,"  but  had  undergone  more  than  one  colonial  con- 
viction. 

As  I  grew  older,  my  great  desire  was  to  be  a  me- 
chanical engineer,  but  the  fates  were  against  this  and, 
while  very  young,  I  commenced  the  study  of  medicine 
under  a  medical  brother-in-law.  But,  though  the  In- 
stitute of  Mechanical  Engineers  would  certainly  not 
own  me,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  not  all  along  been 
a  sort  of  mechanical  engineer  in  partibus  infidelium. 
I  am  now  occasionally  horrified  to  think  how  verv 
little  I  ever  knew  or  cared  about  medicine  as  the  art 
of  healing.  The  only  part  of  my  professional  course 


6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

which  really  and  deeply  interested  me  was  physiology, 
which  is  the  mechanical  engineering  of  living  machines ; 
and,  notwithstanding  that  natural  science  has  been  my 
proper  business,  I  am  afraid  there  is  very  little  of  the 
genuine  naturalist  in  me.  I  never  collected  anything, 
and  species  work  was  always  a  burden  to  me;  what  I 
cared  for  was  the  architectural  and  engineering  part 
of  the  business,  the  working  out  of  the  wonderful  unity 
of  plan  in  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  diverse 
living  constructions,  and  the  modifications  of  similar 
apparatuses  to  serve  diverse  ends.  The  extraordinary 
attraction  I  felt  towards  the  study  of  the  intricacies  of 
living  structure  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me  at  the  outset. 
I  was  a  mere  boy  —  I  think  between  thirteen  and 
fourteen  years  of  age  —  when  I  was  taken  by  some 
older  student  friends  of  mine  to  the  first  post-mortem 
examination  I  ever  attended.  All  my  life  I  have  been 
most  unfortunately  sensitive  to  the  disagreeables 
which  attend  anatomical  pursuits,  but  on  this  occa- 
sion my  curiosity  overpowered  all  other  feelings,  and 
I  spent  two  or  three  hours  in  gratifying  it.  I  did  not 
cut  myself,  and  none  of  the  ordinary  symptoms  of 
dissection-poison  supervened,  but  poisoned  I  was 
somehow,  and  I  remember  sinking  into  a  strange  state 
of  apathy.  By  way  of  a  last  chance,  I  was  sent  to  the 
care  of  some  good,  kind  people,  friends  of  my  father's 
who  lived  in  a  farmhouse  in  the  heart  of  Warwick- 
shire. I  remember  staggering  from  my  bed  to  the  win- 
dow on  the  bright  spring  morning  after  my  arrival, 
and  throwing  open  the  casement.  Life  seemed  to  come 
back  on  the  wings  of  the  breeze,  and  to  this  day  the 
faint  odor  of  wood-smoke,  like  that  which  floated  across 
the  farm-yard  in  the  early  morning,  is  as  good  to  me 
as  the  "sweet  south  upon  a  bed  of  violets."  I  soon  re- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  7 

covered,  but  for  years  I  suffered  from  occasional 
paroxysms  of  internal  pain,  and  from  that  time  my 
constant  friend,  hypochondriacal  dyspepsia,  com- 
menced his  half  century  of  co-tenancy  of  my  fleshly 
tabernacle. 

Looking  back  on  my  "Lehrjahre,"  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  I  do  not  think  that  any  account  of  my  doings 
as  a  student  would  tend  to  edification.  In  fact,  I 
should  distinctly  warn  ingenuous  youth  to  avoid  imi- 
tating my  example.  I  worked  extremely  hard  when 
it  pleased  me,  and  when  it  did  not  —  which  was  a  very 
frequent  case  —  I  was  extremely  idle  (unless  making 
caricatures  of  one's  pastors  and  masters  is  to  be 
called  a  branch  of  industry),  or  else  wasted  my  ener- 
gies in  wrong  directions.  I  read  everything  I  could 
lay  hands  upon,  including  novels,  and  took  up  all 
sorts  of  pursuits  to  drop  them  again  quite  as  speedily. 
No  doubt  it  was  very  largely  my  own  fault,  but  the 
only  instruction  from  which  I  ever  obtained  the  proper 
effect  of  education  was  that  which  I  received  from 
Mr.  Wharton  Jones,  who  was  the  lecturer  on  physi- 
ology at  the  Charing  Cross  School  of  Medicine.  The 
extent  and  precision  of  his  knowledge  impressed  me 
greatly,  and  the  severe  exactness  of  his  method  of  lec- 
turing was  quite  to  my  taste.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  ever  felt  so  much  respect  for  anybody  as  a  teacher 
before  or  since.  I  worked  hard  to  obtain  his  approba- 
tion, and  he  was  extremely  kind  and  helpful  to  the 
youngster  who,  I  am  afraid,  took  up  more  of  his  time 
than  he  had  any  right  to  do.  It  was  he  who  suggested 
the  publication  of  my  first  scientific  paper  —  a  very 
little  one  —  in  the  Medical  Gazette  of  1845,  and  most 
kindly  corrected  the  literary  faults  which  abounded 
in  it,  short  as  it  was ;  for  at  that  time,  and  for  many 


8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

years  afterwards,  I  detested  the  trouble  of   writing, 
and  would  take  no  pains  over  it. 

It  was  in  the  early  spring  of  1846,  that,  having 
finished  my  obligatory  medical  studies  and  passed 
the  first  M.D.  examination  at  the  London  University, 
—  though  I  was  still  too  young  to  qualify  at  the  Col- 
lege of  Surgeons,  —  I  was  talking  to  a  fellow-student 
(the  present  eminent  physician,  Sir  Joseph  Fayrer), 
and  wondering  what  I  should  do  to  meet  the  impera- 
tive necessity  for  earning  my  own  bread,  when  my 
friend  suggested  that  I  should  write  to  Sir  William 
Burnett,  at  that  time  Director-General  for  the  Medical 
Service  of  the  Navy,  for  an  appointment.  I  thought 
this  rather  a  strong  thing  to  do,  as  Sir  William  was 
personally  unknown  to  me,  but  my  cheery  friend 
would  not  listen  to  my  scruples,  so  I  went  to  my  lodg- 
ings and  wrote  the  best  letter  I  could  devise.  A  few 
days  afterwards  I  received  the  usual  official  circular 
acknowledgment,  but  at  the  bottom  there  was  written 
an  instruction  to  call  at  Somerset  House  on  such  a 
day.  I  thought  that  looked  like  business,  so  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  I  called  and  sent  in  my  card,  while  I 
waited  in  Sir  William's  ante-room.  He  was  a  tall, 
shrewd-looking  old  gentleman,  with  a  broad  Scotch 
accent  —  and  I  think  I  see  him  now  as  he  entered  with 
my  card  in  his  hand.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  re- 
turn it,  with  the  frugal  reminder  that  I  should  prob- 
ably find  it  useful  on  some  other  occasion.  The  second 
was  to  ask  whether  I  was  an  Irishman.  I  suppose 
the  air  of  modesty  about  my  appeal  must  have  struck 
him.  I  satisfied  the  Director-General  that  I  was  Eng- 
glish  to  the  backbone,  and  he  made  some  inquiries 
as  to  my  student  career,  finally  desiring  me  to  hold 
myself  ready  for  examination.  Having  passed  this, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  9 

I  was  in  Her  Majesty's  Service,  and  entered  on  the 
books  of  Nelson's  old  ship,  the  Victory,  for  duty  at 
Haslar  Hospital,  about  a  couple  of  months  after  I 
made  my  application. 

My  official  chief  at  Haslar  was  a  very  remarkable 
person,  the  late  Sir  John  Richardson,  an  excellent 
naturalist,  and  far-famed  as  an  indomitable  Arctic 
traveller.  He  was  a  silent,  reserved  man,  outside  the 
circle  of  his  family  and  intimates;  and,  having  a  full 
share  of  youthful  vanity,  I  was  extremely  disgusted 
to  find  that  "  Old  John,"  as  we  irreverent  youngsters 
called  him,  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  my  wor- 
shipful self  either  the  first  time  I  attended  him,  as  it 
was  my  duty  to  do,  or  for  some  weeks  afterwards.  I 
am  afraid  to  think  of  the  lengths  to  which  my  tongue 
may  have  run  on  the  subject  of  the  churlishness  of 
the  chief,  who  was,  in  truth,  one  of  the  kindest-hearted 
and  most  considerate  of  men.  But  one  day,  as  I  was 
crossing  the  hospital  square,  Sir  John  stopped  me, 
and  heaped  coals  of  fire  on  my  head  by  telling  me  that 
he  had  tried  to  get  me  one  of  the  resident  appointments, 
much  coveted  by  the  assistant  surgeons,  but  that  the 
Admiralty  had  put  in  another  man.  "  However,"  said 
he,  "  I  mean  to  keep  you  here  till  I  can  get  you  some- 
thing you  will  like,"  and  turned  upon  his  heel  without 
waiting  for  the  thanks  I  stammered  out.  That  ex- 
plained how  it  was  I  had  not  been  packed  off  to  the 
West  Coast  of  Africa  like  some  of  my  juniors,  and  why, 
eventually,  I  remained  altogether  seven  months  at 
Haslar. 

After  a  long  interval,  during  which  "Old  John" 
ignored  my  existence  almost  as  completely  as  before, 
he  stopped  me  again  as  we  met  in  a  casual  way,  and 
describing  the  service  on  which  the  Rattlesnake  was 


10  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

likely  to  be  employed,  said  that  Captain  Ow'en  Stanley, 
who  was  to  command  the  ship,  had  asked  him  to  re- 
commend an  assistant  surgeon  who  knew  something 
of  science ;  would  I  like  that  ?  Of  course  I  jumped  at 
the  offer.  "  Very  well,  I  give  you  leave;  go  to  London 
at  once  and  see  Captain  Stanley."  I  went,  saw  my 
future  commander,  who  was  very  civil  to  me,  and 
promised  to  ask  that  I  should  be  appointed  to  his  ship, 
as  in  due  time  I  was.  It  is  a  singular  thing  that,  during 
the  few  months  of  my  stay  at  Haslar,  I  had  among 
my  messmates  two  future  Directors-General  of  the 
Medical  Service  of  the  Navy  (Sir  Alexander  Armstrong 
and  Sir  John  Watt-Reid),  with  the  present  President 
of  the  College  of  Physicians  and  my  kindest  of  doctors, 
Sir  Andrew  Clark. 

Life  on  board  Her  Majesty's  ship  in  those  days 
was  a  very  different  affair  from  what  it  is  now,  and 
ours  was  exceptionally  rough,  as  we  were  often  many 
months  without  receiving  letters  or  seeing  any  civilised 
people  but  ourselves.  In  exchange,  we  had  the  inter- 
est of  being  about  the  last  voyagers,  I  suppose,  to 
whom  it  could  be  possible  to  meet  with  people  who 
knew  nothing  of  fire-arms  —  as  we  did  on  the  south 
coast  of  New  Guinea  —  and  of  making  acquaintance 
with  a  variety  of  interesting  savage  and  semi-civilised 
people.  But,  apart  from  experience  of  this  kind  and 
the  opportunities  offered  for  scientific  work,  to  me, 
personally,  the  cruise  was  extremely  valuable.  It  was 
good  for  me  to  live  under  sharp  discipline ;  to  be  down 
on  the  realities  of  existence  by  living  on  bare  necessa- 
ries; to  find  out  how  extremely  well  worth  living  life 
seemed  to  be  when  one  woke  up  from  a  night's  rest 
on  a  soft  plank,  with  the  sky  for  canopy  and  cocoa 
and  weevilly  biscuit  the  sole  prospect  for  breakfast; 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  11 

and,  more  especially,  to  learn  to  work  for  the  sake  of 
what  I  got  for  myself  out  of  it,  even  if  it  all  went  to  the 
bottom  and  I  along  with  it.  My  brother  officers  were 
as  good  fellows  as  sailors  ought  to  be  and  generally 
are,  but,  naturally,  they  neither  knew  nor  cared  any- 
thing about  my  pursuits,  nor  understood  why  I  should 
be  so  zealous  in  pursuit  of  the  objects  which  my  friends, 
the  middies,  christened  "  Buffons,"  after  the  title  con- 
spicuous on  a  volume  of  the  Suites  a  Buffon,  which 
stood  on  my  shelf  in  the  chart  room. 

During  the  four  years  of  our  absence,  I  sent  home 
communication  after  communication  to  the  "  Linnean 
Society,"  with  the  same  result  as  that  obtained  by 
Noah  when  he  sent  the  raven  out  of  his  ark.  Tired 
at  last  of  hearing  nothing  about  them,  I  determined 
to  do  or  die,  and  in  1849  I  drew  up  a  more  elaborate 
paper  and  forwarded  it  to  the  Royal  Society.  This  was 
my  dove,  if  I  had  only  known  it.  But  owing  to  the 
movements  of  the  ship,  I  heard  nothing  of  that  either 
until  my  return  to  England  in  the  latter  end  of  the 
year  1850,  when  I  found  that  it  was  printed  and  pub- 
lished, and  that  a  huge  packet  of  separate  copies 
awaited  me.  When  I  hear  some  of  my  young  friends 
complain  of  want  of  sympathy  and  encouragement, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  my  naval  life  was  not  the 
least  valuable  part  of  my  education. 

Three  years  after  my  return  were  occupied  by  a 
battle  between  my  scientific  friends  on  the  one  hand 
and  the  Admiralty  on  the  other,  as  to  whether  the 
latter  ought,  or  ought  not,  to  act  up  to  the  spirit  of  a 
pledge  they  had  given  to  encourage  officers  who  had 
done  scientific  work  by  contributing  to  the  expense  of 
publishing  mine.  At  last  the  Admiralty,  getting  tired, 
I  suppose,  cut  short  the  discussion  by  ordering  me 


12  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

to  join  a  ship,  which  thing  I  declined  to  do,  and  as 
Rastignac,  in  the  Pere  Goriot  says  to  Paris,  I  said  to 
London  "  a  nous  deux."  I  desired  to  obtain  a  Professor- 
ship of  either  Physiology  or  Comparative  Anatomy,  and 
as  vacancies  occurred  I  applied,  but  in  vain.  My  friend, 
Professor  Tyndall,  and  I  were  candidates  at  the  same 
time,  he  for  the  Chair  of  Physics  and  I  for  that  of 
Natural  History  in  the  University  of  Toronto,  which, 
fortunately,  as  it  turned  out,  would  not  look  at  either 
of  us.  I  say  fortunately,  not  from  any  lack  of  respect 
for  Toronto,  but  because  I  soon  made  up  my  mind 
that  London  was  the  place  for  me,  and  hence  I  have 
steadily  declined  the  inducements  to  leave  it,  which 
have  at  various  times  been  offered.  At  last,  in  1854, 
on  the  translation  of  my  warm  friend  Edward  Forbes, 
to  Edinburgh,  Sir  Henry  de  la  Beche,  the  Director- 
General  of  the  Geological  Survey,  offered  me  the  post 
Forbes  vacated  of  Paleontologist  and  Lecturer  on  Nat- 
ural History.  I  refused  the  former  point  blank,  and 
accepted  the  latter  only  provisionally,  telling  Sir  Henry 
that  I  did  not  care  for  fossils,  and  that  I  should  give 
up  Natural  History  as  soon  as  I  could  get  a  physio- 
logical post.  But  I  held  the  office  for  thirty-one  years, 
and  a  large  part  of  my  work  has  been  paleontological. 
At  that  time  I  disliked  public  speaking,  and  had  a 
firm  conviction  that  I  should  break  down  even7  time 
I  opened  my  mouth.  I  believe  I  had  every  fault^a 
speaker  could  have  (except  talking  at  random  or  in- 
dulging in  rhetoric),  when  I  spoke  to  the  first  import- 
ant audience  I  ever  addressed,  on  a  Friday  evening 
at  the  Royal  Institution,  in  1852.  Yet,  I  must  confess 
to  having  been  guilty,  malgre  moi,  of  as  much  public 
speaking  as  most  of  my  contemporaries,  and  for  the 
last  ten  years -it  ceased  to  be  so  much  of  a  bugbear  to 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  13 

me.  I  used  to  pity  myself  for  having  to  go  through  this 
training,  but  I  am  now  more  disposed  to  compassion- 
ate the  unfortunate  audiences,  especially  my  ever 
friendly  hearers  at  the  Royal  Institution,  who  were 
the  subjects  of  my  oratorical  experiments. 

The  last  thing  that  it  would  be  proper  for  me  to 
do  would  be  to  speak  of  the  work  of  my  life,  or  to  say 
at  the  end  of  the  day  whether  I  think  I  have  earned 
my  wages  or  not.  Men  are  said  to  be  partial  judges 
of  themselves.  Young  men  may  be,  I  doubt  if  old  men 
are.  Life  seems  terribly  foreshortened  as  they  look 
back  and  the  mountain  they  set  themselves  to  climb  in 
youth  turns  out  •  to  be  a  mere  spur  of  immeasurably 
higher  ranges  when,  by  failing  breath,  they  reach  the 
top.  But  if  I  may  speak  of  the  objects  I  have  had  more 
or  less  definitely  in  view  since  I  began  the  ascent  of  my 
hillock,  they  are  briefly  these :  To  promote  the  increase 
of  natural  knowledge  and  to  forward  the  application 
of  scientific  methods  of  investigation  to  all  the  prob- 
lems of  life  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  in  the  conviction 
which  has  grown  with  my  growth  and  strengthened 
with  my  strength,  that  there  is  no  alleviation  for  the 
sufferings  of  mankind  except  veracity  of  thought  and 
of  action,  and  the  resolute  facing  of  the  world  as  it  is 
when  the  garment  of  make-believe  by  which  pious 
hands  have  hidden  its  uglier  features  is  stripped  off. 
v  It  is  with  this  intent  that  I  have  subordinated  any 
reasonable,  or  unreasonable,  ambition  for  scientific- 
fame  which  I  may  have  permitted  myself  to  entertain 
to  other  ends;  to  the  popularization  of  science;  to  the 
development  and  organisation  of  scientific  education ; 
to  the  endless  series  of  battles  and  skirmishes  over 
evolution ;  and  to  untiring  opposition  to  that  ecclesias- 
tical spirit,  that  clericalism,  which  in  England,  as 


14  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

everywhere  else,  and  to  whatever  denomination  it  may 
belong,  is  the  deadly  enemy  of  science. 

In  striving  for  the  attainment  of  these  objects,  I 
have  been  but  one  among  many,  and  I  shall  be  well 
content  to  be  remembered,  or  even  not  remembered,  as 
such.  Circumstances,  among  which  I  am  proud  to 
reckon  the  devoted  kindness  of  many  friends,  have 
led  to  my  occupation  of  various  prominent  positions, 
among  which  the  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Society  is  the 
highest.  It  would  be  mock  modesty  on  my  part,  with 
these  and  other  scientific  honours  which  have  been 
bestowed  upon  me,  to  pretend  that  I  have  not  suc- 
ceeded in  the  career  which  I  have  followed,  rather  be- 
cause I  was  driven  into  it  than  of  my  own  free  will ; 
but  I  am  afraid  I  should  not  count  even  these  things 
as  marks  of  success  if  I  could  not  hope  that  I  had 
somewhat  helped  that  movement  of  opinion  which 
has  been  called  the  New  Reformation. 


ON  THE  ADVISABLENESS  OF  IMPROVING 
NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

THIS  time  two  hundred  years  ago  —  in  the  begin- 
ning of  January,  1666  —  those  of  our  forefathers  who 
inhabited  this  great  and  ancient  city,  took  breath  be- 
tween the  shocks  of  two  fearful  calamities:  one  not 
quite  past,  although  its  fury  had  abated;  the  other  to 
come. 

Within  a  few  yards  of  the  very  spot  on  which  we 
are  assembled,  so  the  tradition  runs,  that  painful  and 
deadly  malady,  the  plague,  appeared  in  the  latter 
months  of  1664;  and,  though  no  new  visitor,  smote 
the  people  of  England,  and  especially  of  her  capital, 
with  a  violence  unknown  before,  in  the  course  of  the 
following  year.  The  hand  of  a  master  has  pictured 
what  happened  in  those  dismal  months;  and  in  that 
truest  of  fictions,  The  History  of  tlie  Plague  Year, 
Defoe  shows  death,  with  every  accompaniment  of  pain 
and  terror,  stalking  through  the  narrow  streets  of  old 
London,  and  changing  their  busy  hum  into  a  silence 
broken  only  by  the  wailing  of  the  mourners  of  fifty 
thousand  dead ;  by  the  woful  denunciations  and  mad 
prayers  of  fanatics;  and  by  the  madder  yells  of  de- 
spairing profligates. 

But,  about  this  time  in  1666,  the  death-rate  had 
sunk  to  nearly  its  ordinary  amount;  a  case  of  plague 
occurred  only  here  and  there,  and  the  richer  citizens 
who  had  flown  from  the  pest  had  returned  to  their 
dwellings.  The  remnant  of  the  people  began  to  toil 
at  the  accustomed  round  of  duty,  or  of  pleasure;  and 


16    ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

the  stream  of  city  life  bid  fair  to  flow  back  along  its 
old  bed,  with  renewed  and  uninterrupted  vigour. 

The  newly  kindled  hope  was  deceitful.  The  great 
plague,  indeed,  returned  no  more ;  but  what  it  had  done 
for  the  Londoners,  the  great  fire,  which  broke  out  in 
the  autumn  of  1666,  did  for  London ;  and,  in  Septem- 
ber of  that  year,  a  heap  of  ashes  and  the  indestruc- 
tible energy  of  the  people  were  all  that  remained 
of  the  glory  of  five-sixths  of  the  city  within  the 
walls. 

Our  forefathers  had  their  own  ways  of  accounting 
for  each  of  these  calamities.  They  submitted  to  the 
plague  in  humility  and  in  penitence,  for  they  believed 
it  to  be  the  judgment  of  God.  But,  towards  the  fire 
they  were  furiously  indignant,  interpreting  it  as  the 
effect  of  the  malice  of  man,  —  as  the  work  of  the 
Republicans,  or  of  the  Papists,  according  as  their 
prepossessions  ran  in  favour  of  loyalty  or  of  Puri- 
tanism. 

It  would,  I  fancy,  have  fared  but  ill  with  one  who, 
standing  where  I  now  stand,  in  what  was  then  a  thickly 
peopled  and  fashionable  part  of  London,  should  have 
broached  to  our  ancestors  the  doctrine  which  I  now 
propound  to  you  —  that  all  their  hypotheses  were  alike 
wrong;  that  the  plague  was  no  more,  in  their  sense, 
Divine  judgment,  than  the  fire  was  the  work  of  any 
political,  or  of  any  religious  sect;  but  that  they  were 
themselves  the  authors  of  both  plague  and  fire,  and 
that  they  must  look  to  themselves  to  prevent  the  re- 
currence of  calamities,  to  all  appearance  so  peculiarly 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  control  —  so  evidently  the 
result  of  the  wrath  of  God,  or  of  the  craft  and  subtlety 
of  an  enemy. 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE    17 

And  one  may  picture  to  one's  self  how  harmoni- 
ously the  holy  cursing  of  the  Puritan  of  that  day 
would  have  chimed  in  with  the  unholy  cursing  and 
the  crackling  wit  of  the  Rochesters  and  Sedleys,  and 
with  the  revilings  of  the  political  fanatics,  if  my 
imaginary  plain  dealer  had  gone  on  to  say  that,  if  the 
return  of  such  misfortunes  were  ever  rendered  impos- 
sible, it  would  not  be  in  virtue  of  the  victory  of  the 
faith  of  Laud,  or  of  that  of  Milton ;  and,  as  little,  by 
the  triumph  of  republicanism,  as  by  that  of  monarchy. 
But  that  the  one  thing  needful  for  compassing  this 
end  was,  that  the  people  of  England  should  second 
the  efforts  of  an  insignificant  corporation,  the  estab- 
lishment of  which,  a  few  years  before  the  epoch  of  the 
great  plague  and  the  great  fire,  had  been  as  little  no- 
ticed, as  they  were  conspicuous. 

Some  twenty  years  before  the  outbreak  of  the  plague 
a  few  calm  and  thoughtful  students  banded  themselves 
together  for  the  purpose,  as  they  phrased  it,  of  "im- 
proving natural  knowledge."  The  ends  they  proposed 
to  attain  cannot  be  stated  more  clearly  than  in  the 
words  of  one  of  the  founders  of  the  organisation :  — 

"  Our  business  was  (precluding  matters  of  theology 
and  state  affairs)  to  discourse  and  consider  of  philo- 
sophical enquiries,  and  such  as  related  thereunto :  — 
as  Physick,  Anatomy,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  Navi- 
gation, Staticks,  Magneticks,  Chymicks,  Mechanicks, 
and  Natural  Experiments;  with  the  state  of  these 
studies  and  their  cultivation  at  home  and  abroad.  We 
then  discoursed  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the 
valves  in  the  veins,  the  vense  lactese,  the  lymphatic 
vessels,  the  Copernican  hypothesis,  the  nature  of  comets 
and  new  stars,  the  satellites  of  Jupiter,  the  oval  shape 


18     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

(as  it  then  appeared)  of  Saturn,  the  spots  on  the  sun 
and  its  turning  on  its  own  axis,  the  inequalities  and 
selenography  of  the  moon,  the  several  phases  of  Venus 
and  Mercury,  the  improvement  of  telescopes  and 
grinding  of  glasses  for  that  purpose,  the  weight  of  air, 
the  possibility  or  impossibility  of  vacuities  and  nature's 
abhorrence  thereof,  the  Torricellian  experiment  in 
quicksilver,  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies  and  the  degree 
of  acceleration  therein,  with  divers  other  things  of  like 
nature,  some  of  which  were  then  but  new  discoveries, 
and  others  not  so  generally  known  and  embraced  as 
now  they  are;  with  other  things  appertaining  to  what 
hath  been  called  the  New  Philosophy,  which  from  the 
times  of  Galileo  at  Florence,  and  Sir  Francis  Bacon 
(Lord  Verulam)  in  England,  hath  been  much  culti- 
vated in  Italy,  France,  Germany,  and  other  parts 
abroad,  as  well  as  with  us  in  England." 

The  learned  Dr.  Wallis,  writing  in  1696,  narrates 
in  these  words,  what  happened  half  a  century  before, 
or  about  1645.  The  associates  met  at  Oxford,  in  the 
rooms  of  Dr.  Wilkins,  who  was  destined  to  become  a 
bishop ;  and  subsequently  coming  together  in  London, 
they  attracted  the  notice  of  the  king.  And  it  is  a  strange 
evidence  of  the  taste  for  knowledge  which  the  most  ob- 
viously worthless  of  the  Stuarts  shared  with  his  father 
and  grandfather,  that  Charles  the  Second  was  not 
content  with  saying  witty  things  about  his  philosophers, 
but  did  wise  things  with  regard  to  them.  For  he  not 
only  bestowed  upon  them  such  attention  as  he  could 
spare  from  his  poodles  and  his  mistresses,  but,  being 
in  his  usual  state  of  impecuniosity,  begged  for  them 
of  the  Duke  of  Ormond;  and,  that  step  being  without 
effect,  gave  them  Chelsea  College,  a  charter,  and  a 
mace :  crowning  his  favours  in  the  best  way  they  could 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE      19 

be  crowned,  by  burdening  them  no  further  with  royal 
patronage  or  state  interference. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  half-dozen  young  men,  studi- 
ous of  the  "  New  Philosophy,"  who  met  in  one  another's 
lodgings  in  Oxford  or  in  London,  in  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  grew  in  numerical  and  in  real 
strength,  until,  in  its  latter  part,  the  "Royal  Society  for 
the  Improvement  of  Natural  Knowledge"  had  already 
become  famous,  and  had  acquired  a  claim  upon  the 
veneration  of  Englishmen,  which  it  has  ever  since  re- 
tained, as  the  principal  focus  of  scientific  activity  in 
our  islands,  and  the  chief  champion  of  the  cause  it  was 
formed  to  support. 

It  was  by  the  aid  of  the  Royal  Society  that  Newton 
published  his  Principia.  If  all  the  books  in  the  world , 
except  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  were  destroyed, 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  foundations  of  physical  science 
would  remain  unshaken,  and  that  the  vast  intellectual 
progress  of  the  last  two  centuries  would  be  largely, 
though  incompletely,  recorded.  Nor  have  any  signs 
of  halting  or  of  decrepitude  manifested  themselves 
in  our  own  times.  As  in  Dr.  Wallis's  days,  so  in  these, 
"our  business  is,  precluding  theology  and  state  af- 
fairs, to  discourse  and  consider  of  philosophical  en- 
quiries." But  our  "  Mathematick "  is  one  which 
Newton  would  have  to  go  to  school  to  learn ;  our  "  Sta- 
ticks,  Mechanicks,  Magneticks,  Chymicks,  and  Nat- 
ural Experiments"  constitute  a  mass  of  physical  and 
chemical  knowledge,  a  glimpse  at  which  would  com- 
pensate Galileo  for  the  doings  of  a  score  of  inquisi- 
torial cardinals;  our  "Physick"  and  "Anatomy" 
have  embraced  such  infinite  varieties  of  beings,  have 
laid  open  such  new  worlds  in  time  and  space,  have 
grappled,  not  unsuccessfully,  with  such  complex  prob- 


20     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

lems,  that  the  eyes  of  Vesalius  and  of  Harvey  might  be 
dazzled  by  the  sight  of  the  tree  that  has  grown  out  of 
their  grain  of  mustard  seed. 

The  fact  is  perhaps  rather  too  much,  than  too 
little,  forced  upon  one's  notice,  nowadays,  that  all 
this  marvellous  intellectual  growth  has  a  no  less  won- 
derful expression  in  practical  life;  and  that,  in  this 
respect,  if  in  no  other,  the  movement  symbolised  by 
the  progress  of  the  Royal  Society  stands  without  a 
parallel  in  fhe  history  of  mankind. 

A  series  of  volumes  as  bulky  as  the  "Transactions 
of  the  Royal  Society"  might  possibly  be  filled  with 
the  subtle  speculations  of  the  Schoolmen;  not  im- 
probably, the  obtaining  a  mastery  over  the  products 
of  mediaeval  thought  might  necessitate  an  even  greater 
expenditure  of  time  and  of  energy  than  the  acquire- 
ment of  the  "  New  Philosophy" ;  but  though  such  work 
engrossed  the  best  intellects  of  Europe  for  a  longer 
time  than  has  elapsed  since  the  great  fire,  its  effects 
were  "  writ  in  water,"  so  far  as  our  social  state  is  con- 
cerned. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  noble  first  President  of 
the  Royal  Society  could  revisit  the  upper  air  and  once 
more  gladden  his  eyes  with  a  sight  of  the  familiar 
mace,  he  would  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  material 
civilisation  more  different  from  that  of  his  day,  than 
that  of  the  seventeenth  was  from  that  of  the  first  cen- 
tury. And  if  Lord  Brouncker's  native  sagacity  had 
not  deserted  his  ghost,  he  would  need  no  long  reflec- 
tion to  discover  that  all  these  great  ships,  these  rail- 
ways, these  telegraphs,  these  factories,  these  printing- 
presses,  without  which  the  whole  fabric  of  modern 
English  society  would  collapse  into  a  mass  of  stagnant 
and  starving  pauperism,  —  that  all  these  pillars  of 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     21 

our  State  are  but  the  ripples  and  the  bubbles  upon  the 
surface  of  that  great  spiritual  stream,  the  springs  of 
which  only,  he  and  his  fellows  were  privileged  to  see; 
and  seeing,  to  recognise  as  that  which  it  behoved  them 
above  all  things  to  keep  pure  and  undefiled. 

It  may  not  be  too  great  a  flight  of  imagination  to 
conceive  our  noble  revenant  riot  forgetful  of  the  great 
troubles  of  his  own  day,  and  anxious  to  know  how 
often  London  had  been  burned  dow*n  since  his  time, 
and  how  often  the  plague  had  carried  off  its  thousands. 
He  would  have  to  learn  that,  although  London  con- 
tains tenfold  the  inflammable  matter  that  it  did  in 
1666;  though,  not  content  with  filling  our  rooms  with 
woodwork  and  light  draperies,  we  must  needs  lead  in- 
flammable and  explosive  gases  into  every  corner  of 
our  streets  and  houses,  we  never  allow  even  a  street 
to  burn  down.  And  if  he  asked  how  this  had  come 
about,  we  should  have  to  explain  that  the  improve- 
ment of  natural  knowledge  has  furnished  us  with 
dozens  of  machines  for  throwing  water  upon  fires,  any 
one  of  which  would  have  furnished  the  ingenious  Mr. 
Hooke,  the  first  "curator  and  experimenter"  of  the 
Royal  Society, with  ample  materials  for  discourse  before 
half  a  dozen  meetings  of  that  body;  and  that,  to  say 
truth,  except  for  the  progress  of  natural  knowledge, 
we  should  not  have  been  able  to  make  even  the  tools 
by  which  these  machines  are  constructed.  And,  further, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  add,  that  although  severe  fires 
sometimes  occur  and  inflict  great  damage,  the  loss 
is  very  generally  compensated  by  societies,  the  opera- 
tions of  which  have  been  rendered  possible  only  by 
the  progress  of  natural  knowledge  in  the  direction  of 
mathematics,  and  the  accumulation  of  wealth  in  vir- 
tue of  other  natural  knowledge. 


22     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

But  the  plague  ?  My  Lord  Brouncker's  observation 
would  not,  I  fear,  lead  him  to  think  that  Englishmen 
of  the  nineteenth  century  are  purer  in  life,  or  more  fer- 
vent in  religious  faith,  than  the  generation  which  could 
produce  a  Boyle,  an  Evelyn,  and  a  Milton.  He  might 
find  the  mud  of  society  at  the  bottom,  instead  of  at  the 
top,  but  I  fear  that  the  sum  total  would  be  as  deserving 
of  swift  judgment  as  at  the  time  of  the  Restoration. 
And  it  would  be  our  duty  to  explain  once  more,  and 
this  time  not  without  shame,  that  -we  have  no  reason 
to  believe  that  it  is  the  improvement  of  our  faith,  nor 
that  of  our  morals,  which  keeps  the  plague  from  our 
city;  but,  again,  that  it  is  the  improvement  of  our 
natural  knowledge. 

We  have  learned  that  pestilences  will  only  take 
up  their  abode  among  those  who  have  prepared  un- 
swept  and  ungarnished  residences  for  them.  Their 
cities  must  have  narrow,  unwatered  streets,  foul  with 
accumulated  garbage.  Their  houses  must  be  ill- 
drained,  ill-lighted,  ill- ventilated.  Their  subjects  must 
be  ill- washed,  ill-fed,  ill-clothed.  The  London  of  1665 
was  such  a  city.  The  cities  of  the  East, 'where  plague 
has  an  enduring  dwelling,  are  such  cities.  We,  in 
later  times,  have  learned  somewhat  of  Nature,  and 
partly  obey  her.  Because  of  this  partial  improvement 
of  our  natural  knowledge  and  of  that  fractional  obedi- 
ence, we  have  no  plague;  because  that  knowledge  is 
still  very  imperfect  and  that  obedience  yet  incomplete, 
typhoid  is  our  companion  and  cholera  our  visitor. 
But  it  is  not  presumptuous  to  express  the  belief  that, 
when  our  knowledge  is  more  complete  and  our  obedi- 
ence the  expression  of  our  knowledge,  London  will 
count  her  centuries  of  freedom  from  typhoid  and 
cholera,  as  she  now  gratefully  reckons  her  two  hundred 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     23 

years  of  ignorance  of  that  plague  which  swooped  upon 
her  thrice  in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

Surely,  there  is  nothing  in  these  explanations  which 
is  not  fully  borne  out  by  the  facts  ?  Surely,  the  prin- 
ciples involved  in  them  are  now  admitted  among  the 
fixed  beliefs  of  all  thinking  men  ?  Surely,  it  is  true 
that  our  countrymen  are  less  subject  to  fire,  famine, 
pestilence,  and  all  the  evils  which  result  from  a  want 
of  command  over  and  due  anticipation  of  the  course 
of  Nature,  than  were  the  countrymen  of  Milton;  and 
health,  wealth,  and  well-being  are  more  abundant  with 
us  than  with  them  ?  But  no  less  certainly  is  the  differ- 
ence due  to  the  improvement  of  our  knowledge  of  Nature, 
and  the  extent  to  which  that  improved  knowledge  has 
been  incorporated  with  the  household  words  of  men, 
and  has  supplied  the  springs  of  their  daily  actions. 

Granting  for  a  moment,  then,  the  truth  of  that 
which  the  depredators  of  natural  knowledge  are  so 
fond  of  urging,  that  its  improvement  can  only  add  to 
the  resources  of  our  material  civilisation;  admitting 
it  to  be  possible  that  the  founders  of  the  Royal  Society 
themselves  looked  for  not  other  reward  than  this,  I 
cannot  confess  that  I  was  guilty  of  exaggeration  when 
I  hinted,  that  to  him  who  had  the  gift  of  distinguishing 
between  prominent  events  and  important  events,  the 
origin  of  a  combined  effort  on  the  part  of  mankind 
to  improve  natural  knowledge  might  have  loomed 
larger  than  the  Plague  and  have  outshone  the  glare 
of  the  Fire;  as  a  something  fraught  with  a  wealth  of 
beneficence  to  mankind,  in  comparison  with  which 
the  damage  done  by  those  ghastly  evils  would  shrink 
into  insignificance. 

It  is  very  certain  that  for  every  victim  slain  by 
the  plague,  hundreds  of  mankind  exist  and  find  a 


24     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

fair  share  of  happiness  in  the  world  by  the  aid  of 
the  spinning  jenny.  And  the  great  fire,  at  its  worst, 
could  not  have  burned  the  supply  of  coal,  the  daily 
working  of  which,  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  made 
possible  by  the  steam  pump,  gives  rise  to  an  amount 
of  wealth  to  which  the  millions  lost  in  old  London  are 
but  as  an  old  song. 

But  spinning  jenny  and  steam  pump  are,  after  all, 
but  toys,  possessing  an  accidental  value;  and  natural 
knowledge  creates  multitudes  of  more  subtle  con- 
trivances, the  praises  of  which  do  not  happen  to  be 
sung  because  they  are  not  directly  convertible  into 
instruments  for  creating  wealth.  When  I  contemplate 
natural  knowledge  squandering  such  gifts  among  men, 
the  only  appropriate  comparison  I  can  find  for  her 
is  to  liken  her  to  such  a  peasant  woman  as  one  sees 
in  the  Alps,  striding  ever  upward,  heavily  burdened, 
and  with  mind  bent  only  on  her  home ;  but  yet  without 
effort  and  without  thought,  knitting  for  her  children. 
Now  stockings  are  good  and  comfortable  things,  and  the 
children  will  undoubtedly  be  much  the  better  for  them ; 
but  surely  it  would  be  short-sighted,  to  say  the  least  of 
it,  to  depreciate  this  toiling  mother  as  a  mere  stocking- 
machine  —  a  mere  provider  of  physical  comforts  ? 

However,  there  are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind,  and 
not  a  few  of  them,  who  take  this  view  of  natural 
knowledge,  and  can  see  nothing  in  the  bountiful 
mother  of  humanity  but  a  sort  of  comfort-grinding 
machine.  According  to  them,  the  improvement  of 
natural  knowledge  always  has  been,  and  always  must 
be,  synonymous  with  no  more  than  the  improvement 
of  the  material  resources  and  the  increase  of  the  grati- 
fications of  men. 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     25 

Natural  knowledge  is,  in  their  eyes,  no  real  mother 
of  mankind,  bringing  them  up  with  kindness,  and, 
if  need  be,  with  sternness,  in  the  way  they  should  go, 
and  instructing  them  in  all  things  needful  for  their 
welfare;  but  a  sort  of  fairy  god-mother,  ready  to 
furnish  her  pets  with  shoes  of  swiftness,  swords  of 
sharpness,  and  omnipotent  Aladdin's  lamps,  so  that 
they  may  have  telegraphs  to  Saturn,  and  see  the  other 
side  of  the  moon,  and  thank  God  they  are  better  than 
their  benighted  ancestors. 

If  this  talk  were  true,  I,  for  one,  should  not  greatly 
care  to  toil  in  the  service  of  natural  knowledge.  I 
think  I  would  just  as  soon  be  quietly  chipping  my  own 
flint  axe,  after  the  manner  of  my  forefathers  a  few 
thousand  years  back,  as  be  troubled  with  the  endless 
malady  of  thought  which  now  infests  us  all,  for  such 
reward.  But  I  venture  to  say  that  such  views  are  con- 
trary alike  to  reason  and  to  fact.  Those  who  discourse 
in  such  fashion  seem  to  me  to  be  so  intent  upon  trying 
to  see  what  is  above  Nature,  or  what  is  behind  her, 
that  they  are  blind  to  what  stares  them  in  the  face  in 
her. 

I  should  not  venture  thus  to  speak  strongly  if  my  jus- 
tification were  not  to  be  found  in  the  simplest  and  most 
obvious  facts,  —  if  it  needed  more  than  an  appeal  to 
the  most  notorious  truths  to  justify  my  assertion,  that 
the  improvement  of  natural  knowledge,  whatever 
direction  it  has  taken,  and  however  low  the  aims  of 
those  who  may  have  commenced  it  —  has  not  only 
conferred  practical  benefits  on  men,  but,  in  so  doing, 
has  effected  a  revolution  in  their  conceptions  of  the 
universe  and  of  themselves,  and  has  profoundly 
altered  their  modes  of  thinking  and  their  views  of 
right  and  wrong.  I  say  that  natural  knowledge,  seek- 


26     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

ing  to  satisfy  natural  wants,  has  found  the  ideas  which 
can  alone  still  spiritual  cravings.  I  say  that  natural 
knowledge,  in  desiring  to  ascertain  the  laws  of  com- 
fort, has  been  driven  to  discover  those  of  conduct,  and 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  new  morality. 

Let  us  take  these  points  separately;  and  first,  what 
great  ideas  has  natural  knowledge  introduced  into 
men's  minds? 

I  cannot  but  think  that  the  foundations  of  all  nat- 
ural knowledge  were  laid  when  the  reason  of  man 
first  came  face  to  face  with  the  facts  of  Nature ;  when 
the  savage  first  learned  that  the  fingers  of  one  hand 
are  fewer  than  those  of  both ;  that  it  is  shorter  to  cross 
a  stream  than  to  head  it;  that  a  stone  stops  where  it 
is  unless  it  be  moved,  and  that  it  drops  from  the  hand 
which  lets  it  go ;  that  light  and  heat  come  and  go  with 
the  sun ;  that  sticks  burn  away  in  a  fire ;  that  plants  and 
animals  grow  and  die ;  that  if  he  struck  his  fellow  sav- 
age a  blow  he  would  make  him  angry,  and  perhaps  get 
a  blow  in  return,  while  if  he  offered  him  a  fruit  he  would 
please  him,  and  perhaps  receive  a  fish  in  exchange. 
When  men  had  acquired  this  much  knowledge,  the 
outlines,  rude  though  they  were,  of  mathematics,  of 
physics,  of  chemistry,  of  biology,  of  moral,  economical, 
and  political  science,  were  sketched.  Nor  did  the  germ 
of  religion  fail  when  science  began  to  bud.  Listen  to 
words  which,  though  new,  are  yet  three  thousand 
years  old :  — 

.     .     .  When  in  heaven  the  stars  about  the  moon 
Look  beautiful,  when  all  the  winds  are  laid, 
And  every  height  comes  out,  and  jutting  peak 
And  valley,  and  the  immeasurable  heavens 
Break  open  to  their  highest,  and  all  the  stars 
Shine,  and  the  shepherd  gladdens  in  his  heart. 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     2T 

If  the  half  savage  Greek  could  share  our  feelings 
thus  far,  it  is  irrational  to  doubt  that  he  went  further, 
to  find  as  we  do,  that  upon  that  brief  gladness  there 
follows  a  certain  sorrow,  —  the  little  light  of  awak- 
ened human  intelligence  shines  so  mere  a  spark 
amidst  the  abyss  of  the  unknown  and  unknowable; 
seems  so  insufficient  to  do  more  than  illuminate  the 
imperfections  that  cannot  be  remedied,  the  aspira- 
tions that  cannot  be  realised,  of  man's  own  nature. 
But  in  this  sadness,  this  consciousness  of  the  limita- 
tion of  man,  this  sense  of  an  open  secret  which  he 
cannot  penetrate,  lies  the  essence  of  all  religion;  and 
the  attempt  to  embody  it  in  the  forms  furnished  by 
the  intellect  is  the  origin  of  the  higher  theologies. 

Thus  it  seems  impossible  to  imagine  but  that  the 
foundations  of  all  knowledge  —  secular  or  sacred 
—  were  laid  when  intelligence  dawned,  though  the 
superstructure  remained  for  long  ages  so  slight  and 
feeble  as  to  be  compatible  with  the  existence  of  almost 
any  general  view  respecting  the  mode  of  governance 
of  the  universe.  No  doubt,  from  the  first,  there  were 
certain  phsenomena  which,  to  the  rudest  mind,  pre- 
sented a  constancy  of  occurrence,  and  suggested  that  a 
fixed  order  ruled,  at  any  rate,  among  them.  I  doubt 
if  the  grossest  of  Fetish  worshippers  ever  imagined 
that  a  stone  must  have  a  god  within  it  to  make  it  fall, 
or  that  a  fruit  had  a  god  within  it  to  make  it  taste 
sweet.  With  regard  to  such  matters  as  these,  it  is  hardly 
questionable  that  mankind  from  the  first  took  strictly 
positive  and  scientific  views. 

But,  with  respect  to  all  the  less  familiar  occurrences 
which  present  themselves,  uncultured  man,  no  doubt, 
has  always  taken  himself  as  the  standard  of  compari- 
son, as  the  centre  and  measure  of  the  world ;  nor  could 


28     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

he  well  avoid  doing  so.  And  finding  that  his  apparently 
uncaused  will  has  a  powerful  effect  in  giving  rise  to 
many  occurrences,  he  naturally  enough  ascribed 
other  and  greater  events  to  other  and  greater  volitions, 
and  came  to  look  upon  the  world  and  all  that  therein  is, 
as  the  product  of  the  volitions  of  persons  like  himself, 
but  stronger,  and  capable  of  being  appeased  or  an- 
gered, as  he  himself  might  be  soothed  or  irritated. 
Through  such  conceptions  of  the  plan  and  working 
of  the  universe  all  mankind  have  passed,  or  are  passing. 
And  we  may  now  consider  what  has  been  the  effect 
of  the  improvement  of  natural  knowledge  on  the  views 
of  men  who  have  reached  this  stage,  and  who  have  be- 
gun to  cultivate  natural  knowledge  with  no  desire  but 
that  of  "increasing  God's  honour  and  bettering  man's 
estate." 

For  example,  what  could  seem  wiser,  from  a  mere 
material  point  of  view,  more  innocent,  from  a  theo- 
logical one,  to  an  ancient  people,  than  that  they  should 
learn  the  exact  succession  of  the  seasons,  as  warnings 
for  their  husbandmen ;  or  the  position  of  the  stars,  as 
guides  to  their  rude  navigators  ?  But  what  has  grown 
out  of  this  search  for  natural  knowledge  of  so  merely 
useful  a  character?  You  all  know  the  reply.  Astron- 
omy, —  which  of  all  sciences  has  filled  men's  minds 
with  general  ideas  of  a  character  most  foreign  to  their 
daily  experience,  and  has,  more  than  any  other,  ren- 
dered it  impossible  for  them  to  accept  the  beliefs  of 
their  fathers.  Astronomy,  —  which  tells  them  that 
this  so  vast  and  seemingly  solid  earth  is  but  an  atom 
among  atoms,  whirling,  no  man  knows  whither,  through 
illimitable  space;  which  demonstrates  that  what  we 
call  the  peaceful  heaven  above  us,  is  but  that  space, 
filled  by  an  infinitely  subtle  matter  whose  particles 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     29 

are  seething  and  surging,  like  the  waves  of  an  angry 
sea;  which  opens  up  to  us  infinite  regions  where 
nothing  is  known,  or  ever  seems  to  have  been  known, 
but  matter  and  force,  operating  according  to  rigid 
rules ;  which  leads  us  to  contemplate  phenomena  the 
very  nature  of  which  demonstrates  that  they  must 
have  had  a  beginning,  and  that  they  must  have  an 
end,  but  the  very  nature  of  which  also  proves  that 
the  beginning  was,  to  our  conceptions  of  time,  infi- 
nitely remote,  and  that  the  end  is  as  immeasurably 
distant. 

But  it  is  not  alone  those  who  pursue  astronomy  who 
ask  for  bread  and  receive  ideas.  What  more  harmless 
than  the  attempt  to  lift  and  distribute  water  by  pump- 
ing it;  what  more  absolutely  and  grossly  utilitarian? 
Yet  out  of  pumps  grew  the  discussions  about  Nature's 
abhorrence  of  a  vacuum;  and  then  it  was  discovered 
that  Nature  does  not  abhor  a  vacuum,  but  that  air 
has  weight;  and  that  notion  paved  the  way  for  the 
doctrine  that  all  matter  has  weight,  and  that  the  force 
which  produces  weight  is  co-extensive  with  the  uni- 
verse, —  in  short,  to  the  theory  of  universal  gravita- 
tion and  endless  force.  While  learning  how  to  handle 
gases  led  to  the  discovery  of  oxygen,  and  to  modern 
chemistry,  and  to  the  notion  of  the  indestructibility 
of  matter. 

Again,  what  simpler,  or  more  absolutely  practical, 
than  the  attempt  to  keep  the  axle  of  a  wheel  from 
heating  when  the  wheel  turns  round  very  fast  ?  HO\N 
useful  for  carters  and  gig  drivers  to  know  something 
about  this;  and  how  good  were  it,  if  any  ingenious  per- 
son would  find  out  the  cause  of  such  phenomena,  and 
thence  educe  a  general  remedy  for  them.  Such  an 
ingenious  person  was  Count  Rumfor^l;  and  he  and 


30     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

his  successors  have  landed  us  in  the  theory  of  the  per- 
sistence, or  indestructibility,  of  force.  And  in  the  in- 
finitely minute,  as  in  the  infinitely  great,  the  seekers 
after  natural  knowledge  of  the  kinds  called  physical 
and  chemical,  have  everywhere  found  a  definite  order 
and  succession  of  events  which  seem  never  to  be  in- 
fringed. 

And  how  has  it  fared  with  "Physick"  and  Anat- 
omy? Have  the  anatomist,  the  physiologist,  or  the 
physician,  whose  business  it  has  been  to  devote  them- 
selves assiduously  to  that  eminently  practical  and  direct 
end,  the  alleviation  of  the  sufferings  of  mankind,  — 
have  they  been  able  to  confine  their  vision  more  ab- 
solutely to  the  strictly  useful  ?  I  fear  they  are  the  worst 
offenders  of  all.  For  if  the  astronomer  has  set  before 
us  the  infinite  magnitude  of  space,  and  the  practical 
eternity  of  the  duration  of  the  universe ;  if  the  physical 
and  chemical  philosophers  have  demonstrated  the 
infinite  minuteness  of  its  constituent  parts,  and  the 
practical  eternity  of  matter  and  of  force ;  and  if  both 
have  alike  proclaimed  the  universality  of  a  definite 
and  predicable  order  and  succession  of  events,  the 
workers  in  biology  have  not  only  accepted  all  these, 
but  have  added  more  startling  theses  of  their  own. 
For,  as  the  astronomers  discover  in  the  earth  no  cen- 
tre of  the  universe,  but  an  eccentric  speck,  so  the  natu- 
ralists find  man  to  be  no  centre  of  the  living  world, 
but  one  amidst  endless  modifications  of  life;  and  as 
the  astronomers  observe  the  mark  of  practically  end- 
less time  set  upon  the  arrangements  of  the  solar  sys- 
tem so  the  student  of  life  finds  the  records  of  ancient 
forms  of  existence  peopling  the  world  for  ages,  which, 
in  relation  to  human  experience,  are  infinite. 

Furthermore,  the  physiologist  finds  life  to  be  as 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     31 

dependent  for  its  manifestation  of  particular  molec- 
ular arrangements  as  any  physical  or  chemical  phe- 
nomenon ;  and  wherever  he  extends  his  researches, 
fixed  order  and  unchanging  causation  reveal  them- 
selves, as  plainly  as  in  the  rest  of  Nature. 

Nor  can  I  find  that  any  other  fate  has  awaited  the 
germ  of  Religion.  Arising,  like  all  other  kinds  of 
knowledge,  out  of  the  action  and  interaction  of  man's 
mind,  with  that  which  is  not  man's  mind,  it  has  taken 
the  intellectual  coverings  of  Fetishism  or  Polytheism; 
of  Theism  or  Atheism ;  of  Superstition  or  Rationalism. 
With  these,  and  their  relative  merits  and  demerits, 
I  have  nothing  to  do ;  but  this  it  is  needful  for  my  pur- 
pose to  say,  that  if  the  religion  of  the  present  differs 
from  that  of  the  past,  it  is  because  the  theology  of  the 
present  has  become  more  scientific  than  that  of  the 
past ;  because  it  has  not  only  renounced  idols  of  wood 
and  idols  of  stone,  but  begins  to  see  the  necessity  of 
breaking  in  pieces  the  idols  built  up  of  books  and  tra- 
ditions and  fine-spun  ecclesiastical  cobwebs:  and  of 
cherishing  the  noblest  and  most  human  of  man's 
emotions,  by  worship  "for  the  most  part  of  the  silent 
sort"  at  the  Altar  of  the  Unknown. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  new  conceptions  implanted 
in  our  minds  by  the  improvement  of  natural  knowledge. 
Men  have  acquired  the  ideas  of  the  practically  infinite 
extent  of  the  universe  and  of  its  practical  eternity ;  they 
are  familiar  with  the  conception  that  our  earth  is  but 
an  infinitesimal  fragment  of  that  part  of  the  universe 
which  can  be  seen ;  and  that,  nevertheless,  its  duration 
is,  as  compared  with  our  standards  of  time,  infinite. 
They  have  further  acquired  the  idea  that  man  is  but 
one  of  innumerable  forms  of  life  now  existing  on  the 
globe,  and  that  the  present  existences  are  but  the  last 


32     ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

of  an  immeasurable  series  of  predecessors.  Moreover, 
every  step  they  have  made  in  natural  knowledge  has 
tended  to  extend  and  rivet  in  their  minds  the  conception 
of  a  definite  order  of  the  universe  —  which  is  embodied 
in  what  are  called,  by  an  unhappy  metaphor,  the  laws 
of  Nature  —  and  to  narrow  the  range  and  loosen  the 
force  of  men's  belief  in  spontaneity,  or  in  changes  other 
than  such  as  arise  out  of  that  definite  order  itself. 

Whether  these  ideas  are  well  or  ill  founded  is  not 
the  question.  No  one  can  deny  that  they  exist,  and 
have  been  the  inevitable  outgrowth  of  the  improve- 
ment of  natural  knowledge.  And  if  so,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  they  are  changing  the  form  of  men's 
most  cherished  and  most  important  convictions. 

And  as  regards  the  second  point  —  the  extent  to 
which  the  improvement  of  natural  knowledge  has 
remodelled  and  altered  what  may  be  termed  the  intel- 
lectual ethics  of  men,  —  what  are  among  the  moral 
convictions  most  fondly  held  by  barbarous  and  semi- 
barbarous  people? 

They  are  the  convictions  that  authority  is  the  sound- 
est basis  of  belief;  that  merit  attaches  to  a  readiness 
to  believe;  that  the  doubting  disposition  is  a  bad  one, 
and  scepticism  a  sin;  that  when  good  authority  has 
pronounced  what  is  to  be  believed,  and  faith  has  ac- 
cepted it,  reason  has  no  further  duty.  There  are  many 
excellent  persons  who  yet  hold  by  these  principles,  and 
it  is  not  my  present  business,  or  intention,  to  discuss 
their  views.  All  I  wish  to  bring  clearly  before  your 
minds  is  the  unquestionable  fact,  that  the  improvement 
of  natural  knowledge  is  effected  by  methods  which 
directly  give  the  lie  to  all  these  convictions,  and  assume 
the  exact  reverse  of  each  to  be  true. 


ON  IMPROVING  NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE     33 

The  improver  of  natural  knowledge  absolutely  re- 
fuses to  acknowledge  authority,  as  such.  For  him, 
scepticism  is  the  highest  of  duties;  blind  faith  the  one 
unpardonable  sin.  And  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  for 
every  great  advance  in  natural  knowledge  has  involved 
the  absolute  rejection  of  authority,  the  cherishing  of 
the  keenest  scepticism,  the  annihilation  of  the  spirit 
of  blind  faith;  and  the  most  ardent  votary  of  science 
holds,  his  firmest  convictions,  not  because  the  men 
he  most  venerates  hold  them ;  not  because  their  verity 
is  testified  by  portents  and  wonders;  but  because  his 
experience  teaches  him  that  whenever  he  chooses  to 
bring  these  convictions  into  contact  with  their  primary 
source,  Nature  —  whenever  he  thinks  fit  to  test  them 
by  appealing  to  experiment  and  to  observation  — 
Nature  will  confirm  them.  The  man  of  science  has 
learned  to  believe  in  justification,  not  by  faith,  but  by 
verification. 

Thus,  without  for  a  moment  pretending  to  despise 
the  practical  results  of  the  improvement  of  natural 
knowledge,  and  its  beneficial  influence  on  material 
civilisation,  it  must,  I  think,  be  admitted  that  the 
great  ideas,  some  of  which  I  have  indicated,  and  the 
ethical  spirit  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  sketch,  in 
the  few  moments  which  remained  at  my  disposal,  con- 
stitute the  real  and  permanent  significance  of  natural 
knowledge. 

If  these  ideas  be  destined,  as  I  believe  they  are,  to 
be  more  and  more  firmly  established  as  the  world  grows 
older;  if  that  spirit  be  fated,  as  I  believe  it  is,  to  ex- 
tend itself  into  all  departments  of  human  thought, 
and  to  become  co-extensive  with  the  range  of  know- 
ledge; if,  as  our  race  approaches  its  maturity,  it  dis- 
covers, as  I  believe  it  will,  that  there  is  but  one  kind  of 


34     ON  IMPROVING   NATURAL  KNOWLEDGE 

knowledge  and  but  one  method  of  acquiring  it;  then 
we,  who  are  still  children,  may  justly  feel  it  our  highest 
duty  to  recognise  the  advisableness  of  improving  natu- 
ral knowledge,  and  so  to  aid  ourselves  and  our  succes- 
sors in  our  course  towards  the  noble  goal  which  lies 
before  mankind. 


A   LIBERAL   EDUCATION 

THE  business  which  the  South  London  Working 
Men's  College  has  undertaken  is  a  great  work;  indeed, 
I  might  say,  that  Education,  with  which  that  college 
proposes  to  grapple,  is  the  greatest  work  of  all  those 
which  lie  ready  to  a  man's  hand  just  at  present. 

And,  at  length,  this  fact  is  becoming  generally 
recognised.  You  cannot  go  anywhere  without  hearing 
a  buzz  of  more  or  less  confused  and  contradictory  talk 
on  this  subject  —  nor  can  you  fail  to  notice  that,  in 
one  point  at  any  rate,  there  is  a  very  decided  advance 
upon  like  discussions  in  former  days.  Nobody  outside 
the  agricultural  interest  now  dares  to  say  that  education 
is  a  bad  thing.  If  any  representative  of  the  once  large 
and  powerful  party,  which,  in  former  days,  proclaimed 
this  opinion,  still  exists  in  the  semi-fossil  state,  he  keeps 
his  thoughts  to  himself.  In  fact,  there  is  a  chorus  of 
voices,  almost  distressing  in  their  harmony,  raised  in 
favour  of  the  doctrine  that  education  is  the  great 
panacea  for  human  troubles,  and  that,  if  the  country 
is  not  shortly  to  go  to  the  dogs,  everybody  must  be 
educated. 

The  politicians  tell  us,  "You  must  educate  the 
masses  because  they  are  going  to  be  masters."  The 
clergy  join  in  the  cry  for  education,  for  they  affirm  that 
the  people  are  drifting  away  from  church  and  chapel 
into  the  broadest  infidelity.  The  manufacturers  and 
the  capitalists  swell  the  chorus  lustily.  They  declare 
that  ignorance  makes  bad  workmen ;  that  England  will 
soon  be  unable  to  turn  out  cotton  goods,  or  steam  en- 


36  A  LIBERAL   EDUCATION 

gines,  cheaper  than  other  people;  and  then,  Ichabod! 
Ichabod !  the  glory  will  be  departed  from  us.  And  a 
few  voices  are  lifted  up  in  favour  of  the  doctrine  that 
the  masses  should  be  educated  because  they  are  men 
and  women  with  unlimited  capacities  of  being,  doing, 
and  suffering,  and  that  it  is  as  true  now,  as  it  ever  was, 
that  the  people  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge. 

These  members  of  the  minority,  with  whom  I  con- 
fess I  have  a  good  deal  of  sympathy,  are  doubtful 
whether  any  of  the  other  reasons  urged  in  favour  of 
the  education  of  the  people  are  of  much  value  — 
whether,  indeed,  some  of  them  are  based  upon  either 
wise  or  noble  grounds  of  action.  They  question  if  it 
be  wise  to  tell  people  that  you  will  do  for  them,  out  of 
fear  of  their  power,  what  you  have  left  undone,  so  long 
as  your  only  motive  was  compassion  for  their  weakness 
and  their  sorrows.  And,  if  ignorance  of  everything 
which  is  needful  a  ruler  should  know  is  likely  to  do 
so  much  harm  in  the  governing  classes  of  the  future, 
why  is  it,  they  ask  reasonably  enough,  that  such  igno- 
rance in  the  governing  classes  of  the  past  has  not  been 
viewed  with  equal  horror  ? 

Compare  the  average  artisan  and  the  average 
country  squire,  and  it  may  be  doubted  if  you  will 
find  a  pin  to  choose  between  the  two  in  point  of  igno- 
rance, class  feeling,  or  prejudice.  It  is  true  that  the 
ignorance  is  of  a  different  sort  —  that  the  class  feel- 
ing is  in  favour  of  a  different  class  —  and  that  the  pre- 
judice has  a  distinct  savour  of  wrong-headedness  in 
each  case  —  but  it  is  questionable  if  the  one  is  either 
a  bit  better,  or  a  bit  worse,  than  the  other.  The  old 
protectionist  theory  is  the  doctrine  of  trades  unions 
as  applied  by  the  squires,  and  the  modern  trades  union- 
ism is  the  doctrine  of  the  squires  applied  by  the  arti- 


A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION  37 

sans.  Why  should  we  be  worse  off  under  one  regime 
than  under  the  other? 

Again,  this  sceptical  minority  asks  the  clergy  to 
think  whether  it  is  really  want  of  education  which 
keeps  the  masses  away  from  their  ministrations  — 
whether  the  most  completely  educated  men  are  not  as 
open  to  reproach  on  this  score  as  the  workmen ;  and 
whether,  perchance,  this  may  not  indicate  that  it  is 
not  education  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter  ? 

Once  more,  these  people,  whom  there  is  no  pleasing, 
venture  to  doubt  whether  the  glory  which  rests  upon 
being  able  to  undersell  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  is  a 
very  safe  kind  of  glory  —  whether  we  may  not  pur- 
chase it  too  dear;  especially  if  we  allow  education, 
which  ought  to  be  directed  to  the  making  of  men,  to  be 
diverted  into  a  process  of  manufacturing  human  tools, 
wonderfully  adroit  in  the  exercise  of  some  technical 
industry,  but  good  for  nothing  else. 

And,  finally,  these  people  inquire  whether  it  is 
the  masses  alone  who  need  a  reformed  and  improved 
education.  They  ask  whether  the  richest  of  our  pub- 
lic schools  might  not  well  be  made  to  supply  knowledge, 
as  well  as  gentlemanly  habits,  a  strong  class  feeling, 
and  eminent  proficiency  in  cricket.  They  seem  to 
think  that  the  noble  foundations  of  our  old  universities 
are  hardly  fulfilling  their  functions  in  their  present 
posture  of  half-clerical  seminaries,  half  racecourses, 
where  men  are  trained  to  win  a  senior  wranglership,  or 
a  double-first,  as  horses  are  trained  to  win  a  cup,  with 
as  little  reference  to  the  needs  of  after-life  in  the  case 
of  a  man  as  in  that  of  the  racer.  And,  while  as  zealous 
for  education  as  the  rest,  they  affirm  that,  if  the  edu- 
cation of  the  richer  classes  were  such  as  to  fit  them  to 
be  the  leaders  and  the  governors  of  the  poorer;  and, 


38  A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION 

if  the  education  of  the  poorer  classes  were  such  as  to 
enable  them  to  appreciate  really  wise  guidance  and 
good  governance,  the  politicians  need  not  fear  mob- 
law,  nor  the  clergy  lament  their  want  of  flocks,  nor  the 
capitalists  prognosticate  the  annihilation  of  the  pros- 
perity of  the  country. 

Such  is  the  diversity  of  opinion  upon  the  why  and 
the  wherefore  of  education.  And  my  hearers  will  be 
prepared  to  expect  that  the  practical  recommendations 
which  are  put  forward  are  not  less  discordant.  There 
is  a  loud  cry  for  compulsory  education.  We  English, 
in  spite  of  constant  experience  to  the  contrary,  pre- 
serve a  touching  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  acts  of  Parlia- 
ment; and  I  believe  we  should  have  compulsory  edu- 
cation in  the  courses  of  next  session,  if  there  were  the 
least  probability  that  half  a  dozen  leading  statesmen 
of  different  parties  would  agree  what  that  education 
should  be. 

Some  hold  that  education  without  theology  is  worse 
than  none.  Others  maintain,  quite  as  strongly,  that 
education  with  theology  is  in  the  same  predicament. 
But  this  is  certain,  that  those  who  hold  the  first  opinion 
can  by  no  means  agree  what  theology  should  be  taught ; 
and  that  those  who  maintain  the  second  are  in  a  small 
minority. 

At  any  rate  "make  people  learn  to  read,  write,  and 
cipher,"  say  a  great  many;  and  the  advice  is  undoubt- 
edly sensible  as  far  as  it  goes.  But,  as  has  happened 
to  me  in  former  days,  those  who,  in  despair  of  getting 
anything  better,  advocate  this  measure,  are  met  with 
the  objection  that  it  is  very  like  making  a  child  practise 
the  use  of  a  knife,  fork,  and  spoon,  without  giving  it 
a  particle  of  meat.  I  really  don't  know  what  reply  is  to 
be  made  to  such  an  objection. 


A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION  39 

But  it  would  be  unprofitable  to  spend  more  time  in 
disentangling,  or  rather  in  showing  up  the  knots  in, 
the  ravelled  skeins  of  our  neighbours.  Much  more  to 
the  purpose  is  it  to  ask  if  we  possess  any  clue  of  our 
own  which  may  guide  us  among  these  entanglements. 
And  by  way  of  a  beginning,  let  us  ask  ourselves  — 
What  is  education  ?  Above  all  things,  what  is  our  ideal 
of  a  thoroughly  liberal  education  ?  —  of  that  education 
which,  if  we  could  begin  life  again,  we  would  give  our- 
selves —  of  that  education  which,  if  we  could  mould  the 
fates  to  our  own  will,  we  would  give  our  children  ? 
Well,  I  know  not  what  may  be  your  conceptions  upon 
this  matter,  but  I  will  tell  you  mine,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  find  that  our  views  are  not  very  discrepant. 

Suppose  it  were  perfectly  certain  that  the  life  and 
fortune  of  every  one  of  us  would,  one  day  or  other, 
depend  upon  his  winning  or  losing  a  game  of  chess. 
Don't  you  think  that  we  should  all  consider  it  to  be 
a  primary  duty  to  learn  at  least  the  names  and  the 
moves  of  the  pieces ;  to  have  a  notion  of  a  gambit,  and 
a  keen  eye  for  all  the  means  of  giving  and  getting  out 
of  check  ?  Do  you  not  think  that  we  should  look  with 
a  disapprobation  amounting  to  scorn,  upon  the  father 
who  allowed  his  son,  or  the  state  which  allowed  its 
members,  to  grow  up  without  knowing  a  pawn  from 
a  knight  ? 

Yet  it  is  a  very  plain  and  elementary  truth,  that  the 
life,  the  fortune,  and  the  happiness  of  every  one  of  us, 
and,  more  or  less,  of  those  who  are  connected  with  us, 
do  depend  upon  our  knowing  something  of  the  rules 
of  a  game  infinitely  more  difficult  and  complicated 
than  chess.  It  is  a  game  which  has  been  played  for  un- 
told ages,  every  man  and  woman  of  us  being  one  of  the 


40  A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION 

two  players  in  a  game  of  his  or  her  own.  The  chess- 
board is  the  world,  the  pieces  are  the  phenomena  ot 
the  universe,  the  rules  of  the  game  are  what  we  call 
the  laws  of  Nature.  The  player  on  the  other  side  is 
hidden  from  us.  We  know  that  his  play  is  always  fair, 
just,  and  patient.  But  also  we  know,  to  our  cost,  that 
he  never  overlooks  a  mistake,  or  makes  the  smallest 
allowance  for  ignorance.  To  the  man  who  plays  well, 
the  highest  stakes  are  paid,  with  that  sort  of  overflow- 
ing generosity  with  which  the  strong  shows  delight  in 
strength.  And  one  who  plays  ill  is  checkmated  — 
without  haste,  but  without  remorse. 

My  metaphor  will  remind  some  of  you  of  the  famous 
picture  in  which  Retzsch  has  depicted  Satan  playing 
at  chess  with  man  for  his  soul.  Substitute  for  the  mock- 
ing fiend  in  that  picture  a  calm,  strong  angel  who  is 
playing  for  love,  as  we  say,  and  would  rather  lose  than 
win  —  and  I  should  accept  it  as  an  image  of  human 
life. 

Well,  what  I  mean  by  Education  is  learning  the 
rules  of  this  mighty  game.  In  other  words,  education 
is  the  instruction  of  the  intellect  in  the  laws  of  Nature, 
under  which  name  I  include  not  merely  things  and 
their  forces,  but  men  and  their  ways ;  and  the  fashion- 
ing of  the  affections  and  of  the  will  into  an  earnest  and 
loving  desire  to  move  in  harmony  with  those  laws.  For 
me,  education  means  neither  more  nor  less  than  this. 
Anything  which  professes  to  call  itself  education  must 
be  tried  by  this  standard,  and  if  it  fails  to  stand  the 
test,  I  will  not  call  it  education,  whatever  may  be  the 
force  of  authority,  or  of  numbers,  upon  the  other 
side. 

It  is  important  to  remember  that,  in  strictness,  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  an  uneducated  man.  Take  an  ex- 


A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION  41 

treme  case.  Suppose  that  an  adult  man,  in  the  full 
vigour  of  his  faculties,  could  be  suddenly  placed  in  the 
world,  as  Adam  is  said  to  have  been,  and  then  left 
to  do  as  he  best  might.  How  long  would  he  be  left 
uneducated  ?  Not  five  minutes.  Nature  would  begin 
to  teach  him,  through  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  touch,  the 
properties  of  objects.  Pain  and  pleasure  would  be 
at  his  elbow  telling  him  to  do  this  and  avoid  that ;  and 
by  slow  degrees  the  man  would  receive  an  education 
which,  if  narrow,  would  be  thorough,  real,  and  ade- 
quate to  his  circumstances,  though  there  would  be  no 
extras  and  very  few  accomplishments. 

And  if  to  this  solitary  man  entered  a  second  Adam 
or,  better  still,  an  Eve,  a  new  and  greater  world,  that 
of  social  and  moral  phenomena,  would  be  revealed. 
Joys  and  woes,  compared  with  which  all  others  might 
seem  but  faint  shadows,  would  spring  from  the  new 
relations.  Happiness  and  sorrow  would  take  the  place 
of  the  coarser  monitors,  pleasure  and  pain ;  but  conduct 
would  still  be  shaped  by  the  observation  of  the  natural 
consequences  of  actions;  or,  in  other  words,  by  the 
laws  of  the  nature  of  man. 

To  every  one  of  us  the  world  was  once  as  fresh 
and  new  as  to  Adam.  And  then,  long  before  we  were 
susceptible  of  any  other  modes  of  instruction,  Nature 
took  us  in  hand,  and  every  minute  of  waking  life 
brought  its  educational  influence,  shaping  our  actions 
into  rough  accordance  with  Nature's  laws,  so  that  we 
might  not  be  ended  untimely  by  too  gross  disobedience. 
Nor  should  I  speak  of  this  process  of  education  as 
past  for  any  one,  be  he  as  old  as  he  may.  For  every 
man  the  world  is  as  fresh  as  it  was  at  the  first  day,  and 
as  full  of  untold  novelties  for  him  who  has  the  eyes 
to  see  them.  And  Nature  is  still  continuing  her  patient 


42  A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION 

education  of  us  in  that  great  university,  the  universe, 
of  which  we  are  all  members  —  Nature  having  no 
Test-Acts. 

Those  who  take  honours  in  Nature's  university, 
who  learn  the  laws  which  govern  men  and  things  and 
obey  them,  are  the  really  great  and  successful  men  in 
this  world.  The  great  mass  of  mankind  are  the  "  Poll," 
who  pick  up  just  enough  to  get  through  without  much 
discredit.  Those  who  won't  learn  at  all  are  plucked; 
and  then  you  can't  come  up  again.  Nature's  pluck 
means  extermination. 

Thus  the  question  of  compulsory  education  is  settled 
so  far  as  Nature  is  concerned.  Her  bill  on  that  question 
was  framed  and  passed  long  ago.  But,  like  all  compul- 
sory legislation,  that  of  Nature  is  harsh  and  wasteful 
in  its  operation.  Ignorance  is  visited  as  sharply  as 
wilful  disobedience  —  incapacity  meets  with  the  same 
punishment  as  crime.  Nature's  discipline  is  not  even 
a  word  and  a  blow,  and  the  blow  first;  but  the  blow 
without  the  word.  It  is  left  to  you  to  find  out  why  your 
ears  are  boxed. 

The  object  of  what  we  commonly  call  education 
—  that  education  in  which  man  intervenes  and  which 
I  shall  distinguish  as  artificial  education  —  is  to  make 
good  these  defects  in  Nature's  methods;  to  prepare 
the  child  to  receive  Nature's  education,  neither  in- 
capably nor  ignorantly,  nor  with  wilful  disobedience; 
and  to  understand  the  preliminary  symptoms  of  her 
pleasure,  without  waiting  for  the  box  on  the  ear.  In 
short,  all  artificial  education  ought  to  be  an  anticipa- 
tion of  natural  education.  And  a  liberal  education  is 
an  artificial  education  which  has  not  only  prepared  a 
man  to  escape  the  great  evils  of  disobedience  to  natural 
laws,  but  has  trained  him  to  appreciate  and  to  seize 


A  LIBERAL  EDUCATION  43 

upon  the  rewards,  which  Nature  scatters  with  as  free 
a  hand  as  her  penalties. 

That  man,  I  think,  has  had  a  liberal  education  who 
has  been  so  trained  in  youth  that  his  body  is  the  ready 
servant  of  his  will,  and  does  with  ease  and  pleasure  all 
the  work  that,  as  a  mechanism,  it  is  capable  of;  whose 
intellect  is  a  clear,  cold,  logic  engine,  with  all  its  parts 
of  equal  strength,  and  in  smooth  working  order; 
ready,  like  a  steam  engine,  to  be  turned  to  any  kind 
of  work,  and  spin  the  gossamers  as  well  as  forge  the 
anchors  of  the  mind;  whose  mind  is  stored  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  great  and  fundamental  truths  of 
Nature  and  of  the  laws  of  her  operations ;  one  who, 
no  stunted  ascetic,  is  full  of  life  and  fire,  but  whose 
passions  are  trained  to  come  to  heel  by  a  vigorous  will, 
the  servant  of  a  tender  conscience ;  who  has  learned  to 
love  all  beauty,  whether  of  Nature  or  of  art,  to  hate 
all  vileness,  and  to  respect  others  as  himself. 

Such  an  one  and  no  other,  I  conceive,  has  had  a 
liberal  education ;  for  he  is,  as  completely  as  a  man  can 
be,  in  harmony  with  Nature.  He  will  make  the  best 
of  her,  and  she  of  him.  They  will  get  on  together 
rarely ;  she  as  his  ever  beneficent  mother ;  he  as  her 
mouthpiece,  her  conscious  self,  her  minister  and  in- 
terpreter. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

IF  a  well  were  sunk  at  our  feet  in  the  midst  of  the 
city  of  Norwich,  the  diggers  would  very  soon  find  them- 
selves at  work  in  that  white  substance  almost  too 
soft  to  be  called  rock,  with  which  we  are  all  familiar 
as  "chalk." 

Not  only  here,  but  over  the  whole  county  of  Nor- 
folk, the  well-sinker  might  carry  his  shaft  down  many 
hundred  feet  without  coming  to  the  end  of  the  chalk; 
and,  on  the  sea-coast,  where  the  waves  have  pared 
away  the  face  of  the  land  which  breasts  them,  the 
scarped  faces  of  the  high  cliffs  are  often  wholly  formed 
of  the  same  material.  Northward,  the  chalk  may  be 
followed  as  far  as  Yorkshire;  on  the  south  coast  it 
appears  abruptly  in  the  picturesque  western  bays  of 
Dorset,  and  breaks  into  the  Needles  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight;  while  on  the  shores  of  Kent  it  supplies  that 
long  line  of  white  cliffs  to  which  England  owes  her 
name  of  Albion. 

Were  the  thin  soil  which  covers  it  all  washed  away, 
a  curved  band  of  white  chalk,  here  broader,  and 
there  narrower,  might  be  followed  diagonally  across 
England  from  Lulworth  in  Dorset,  to  Flamborough 
Head  in  Yorkshire  —  a  distance  of  over  two  hundred 
and  eighty  miles  as  the  crow  flies. 

From  this  band  to  the  North  Sea,  on  the  east,  and 
the  Channel,  on  the  South,  the  chalk  is  largely  hidden 
by  other  deposits ;  but,  except  in  the  Weald  of  Kent 
and  Sussex,  it  enters  into  the  very  foundation  of  all 
the  south-eastern  counties. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  45 

Attaining,  as  it  does  in  some  places,  a  thickness  of 
more  than  a  thousand  feet,  the  English  chalk  must  be 
admitted  to  be  a  mass  of  considerable  magnitude. 
Nevertheless,  it  covers  but  an  insignificant  portion  of 
the  whole  area  occupied  by  the  chalk  formation  of 
the  globe,  which  has  precisely  the  same  general  char- 
acters as  ours,  and  is  found  in  detached  patches,  some 
less,  and  others  more  extensive,  than  the  English. 

Chalk  occurs  in  north-west  Ireland ;  it  stretches  over 
a  large  part  of  France,  —  the  chalk  which  underlies 
Paris  being,  in  fact,  a  continuation  of  that  of  the  Lon- 
don basin;  it  runs  through  Denmark  and  Central 
Europe,  and  extends  southward  to  North  Africa;  while 
eastward,  it  appears  in  the  Crimea  and  in  Syria,  and 
may  be  traced  as  far  as  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Aral, 
in  Central  Asia. 

If  all  the  points  at  which  true  chalk  occurs  were 
circumscribed,  they  would  lie  within  an  irregular 
oval  about  three  thousand  miles  in  long  diameter  — 
the  area  of  which  would  be  as  great  as  that  of  Europe, 
and  would  many  times  exceed  that  of  the  largest  exist- 
ing inland  sea  —  the  Mediterranean. 

Thus  the  chalk  is  no  unimportant  element  in  the 
masonry  of  the  earth's  crust,  and  it  impresses  a  peculiar 
stamp,  varying  with  the  conditions  to  which  it  is  ex- 
posed, on  the  scenery  of  the  districts  in  which  it  occurs. 
The  undulating  downs  and  rounded  coombs,  covered 
with  sweet-grassed  turf,  of  our  inland  chalk  country, 
have  a  peacefully  domestic  and  mutton-suggesting 
prettiness,  but  can  hardly  be  called  either  grand  or 
beautiful.  But  on  our  southern  coasts,  the  wall-sided 
cliffs,  many  hundred  feet  high,  with  vast  needles  and 
pinnacles  standing  out  in  the  sea,  sharp  and  solitary 
enough  to  serve  as  perches  for  the  wary  cormorant, 


46  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

confer  a  wonderful  beauty  and  grandeur  upon  the  chalk 
headlands.  And,  in  the  East,  chalk  has  its  share  in 
the  formation  of  some  of  the  most  venerable  of  moun- 
tain ranges,  such  as  the  Lebanon. 

What  is  this  wide-spread  component  of  the  surface 
of  the  earth  ?  and  whence  did  it  come  ? 

You  may  think  this  no  very  hopeful  inquiry.  You 
may  not  unnaturally  suppose  that  the  attempt  to  solve 
such  problems  as  these  can  lead  to  no  result,  save  that 
of  entangling  the  inquirer  in  vague  speculations,  in- 
capable of  refutation  and  of  verification. 

If  such  were  really  the  case,  I  should  have  selected 
some  other  subject  than  a  "piece  of  chalk"  for  my 
discourse.  But,  in  truth,  after  much  deliberation,  I 
have  been  unable  to  think  of  any  topic  which  would  so 
well  enable  me  to  lead  you  to  see  how  solid  is  the 
foundation  upon  which  some  of  the  most  startling  con- 
clusions of  physical  science  rest. 

A  great  chapter  of  the  history  of  the  world  is  written 
in  the  chalk.  Few  passages  in  the  history  of  man  can 
be  supported  by  such  an  overwhelming  mass  of  direct 
and  indirect  evidence  as  that  which  testifies  to  the  truth 
of  the  fragment  of  the  history  of  the  globe,  which  I 
hope  to  enable  you  to  read,  with  your  own  eyes,  to- 
night. 

Let  me  add,  that  few  chapters  of  human  history 
have  a  more  profound  significance  for  ourselves.  I 
weigh  my  words  well  when  I  assert,  that  the  man 
who  should  know  the  true  history  of  the  bit  of  chalk 
which  every  carpenter  carries  about  in  his  breeches- 
pocket,  though  ignorant  of  all  other  history,  is  likely, 
if  he  will  think  his  knowledge  out  to  its  ultimate  re- 
sults, to  have  a  truer,  and  therefore  a  better,  conception 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  47 

of  this  wonderful  universe,  and  of  man's  relation  to  it, 
than  the  most  learned  student  who  is  deep-read  in  the 
records  of  humanity  and  ignorant  of  those  of  Nature. 

The  language  of  the  chalk  is  not  hard  to  learn,  not 
nearly  so  hard  as  Latin,  if  you  only  want  to  get  at  the 
broad  features  of  the  story  it  has  to  tell ;  and  I  pro- 
pose that  we  now  set  to  work  to  spell  that  story  out 
together. 

We  all  know  that  if  we  "burn"  chalk  the  result  is 
quicklime.  Chalk,  in  fact,  is  a  compound  of  carbonic 
acid  gas,  and  lime,  and  when  you  make  it  very  hot 
the  carbonic  acid  flies  away  and  the  lime  is  left. 

By  this  method  of  procedure  we  see  the  lime,  but 
we  do  not  see  the  carbonic  acid.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
you  were  to  powder  a  little  chalk  and  drop  it  into  a 
good  deal  of  strong  vinegar,  there  would  be  a  great 
bubbling  and  fizzing,  and,  finally,  a  clear  liquid,  in 
which  no  sign  of  chalk  would  appear.  Here  you  see 
the  carbonic  acid  in  the  bubbles;  the  lime,  dissolved 
in  the  vinegar,  vanishes  from  sight.  There  are  a  great 
many  other  ways  of  showing  that  chalk  is  essentially 
nothing  but  carbonic  acid  and  quicklime.  Chemists 
enunciate  the  result  of  all  the  experiments  which 
prove  this,  by  stating  that  chalk  is  almost  wholly  com- 
posed of  "carbonate  of  lime." 

It  is  desirable  for  us  to  start  from  the  knowledge  of 
this  fact,  though  it  may  not  seem  to  help  us  very  far 
towards  what  we  seek.  For  carbonate  of  lime  is  a  widely 
spread  substance,  and  is  met  with  under  very  various 
conditions.  All  sorts  of  limestones  are  composed  of 
more  or  less  pure  carbonate  of  lime.  The  crust  which 
is  often  deposited  by  waters  which  have  drained  through 
limestone  rocks,  in  the  form  of  what  are  called  stalag- 
mites and  stalactites,  is  carbonate  of  lime.  Or,  to  take 


48  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

a  more  familiar  example,  the  fur  on  the  inside  of  a 
tea-kettle  is  carbonate  of  lime;  and,  for  anything 
chemistry  tells  us  to  the  contrary,  the  chalk  might  be 
a  kind  of  gigantic  fur  upon  the  bottom  of  the  earth- 
kettle,  which  is  kept  pretty  hot  below. 

Let  us  try  another  method  of  making  the  chalk  tell 
us  its  own  history.  To  the  unassisted  eye  chalk  looks 
simply  like  a  very  loose  and  open  kind  of  stone.  But 
it  is  possible  to  grind  a  slice  of  chalk  down  so  thin  that 
you  can  see  through  it  —  until  it  is  thin  enough,  in 
fact,  to  be  examined  with  any  magnifying  power  that 
may  be  thought  desirable.  A  thin  slice  of  the  fur  of 
a  kettle  might  be  made  in  the  same  way.  If  it  were 
examined  microscopically,  it  would  show  itself  to  be 
a  more  or  less  distinctly  laminated  mineral  substance 
and  nothing  more. 

But  the  slice  of  chalk  presents  a  totally  different 
appearance  when  placed  under  the  microscope.  The 
general  mass  of  it  is  made  up  of  very  minute  granules ; 
but,  imbedded  in  this  matrix,  are  innumerable  bodies, 
some  smaller  and  some  larger,  but,  on  a  rough  average, 
not  more  than  a  hundredth  of  an  inch  in  diameter, 
having  a  well-defined  shape  and  structure.  A  cubic 
inch  of  some  specimens  of  chalk  may  contain  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  these  bodies,  compacted  together  with 
incalculable  millions  of  the  granules. 

The  examination  of  a  transparent  slice  gives  a  good 
notion  of  the  manner  in  which  the  components  of  the 
chalk  are  arranged,  and  of  their  relative  proportions. 
But,  by  rubbing  up  some  chalk  with  a  brush  in  water 
and  then  pouring  off  the  milky  fluid,  so  as  to  obtain 
sediments  of  different  degrees  of  fineness,  the  granules 
and  the  minute  rounded  bodies  may  be  pretty  well 
separated  from  one  another,  and  submitted  to  micro- 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  49 

scopic  examination,  either  as  opaque  or  as  transparent 
objects.  By  combining  the  views  obtained  in  these 
various  methods,  each  of  the  rounded  bodies  may  be 
proved  to  be  a  beautifully  constructed  calcareous  fabric, 
made  up  of  a  number  of  chambers,  communicating 
freely  with  one  another.  The  chambered  bodies  are 
of  various  forms.  One  of  the  commonest  is  something 
like  a  badly  grown  raspberry,  being  formed  of  a  num- 
ber of  nearly  globular  chambers  of  different  sizes 
congregated  together.  It  is  called  Globigerina,  and 
some  specimens  of  chalk  consist  of  little  else  than 
Globigerince  and  granules. 

Let  us  fix  our  attention  upon  the  Globigerina.  It 
is  the  spoor  of  the  game  we  are  tracking.  If  we  can 
learn  what  it  is  and  what  are  the  conditions  of  its  ex- 
istence, we  shall  see  our  way  to  the  origin  and  past 
history  of  the  chalk. 

A  suggestion  which  may  naturally  enough  present 
itself  is,  that  these  curious  bodies  are  the  result  of  some 
process  of  aggregation  which  has  taken  place  in  the 
carbonate  of  lime;  that,  just  as  in  winter,  the  rime  on 
our  windows  simulates  the  most  delicate  and  elegantly 
arborescent  foliage  —  proving  that  the  mere  mineral 
water  may,  under  certain  conditions,  assume  the  out- 
ward form  of  organic  bodies  —  so  this  mineral  sub- 
stance, carbonate  of  lime,  hidden  away  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  has  taken  the  shape  of  these  chambered 
bodies.  I  am  not  raising  a  merely  fanciful  and  unreal 
objection.  Very  learned  men,  in  former  days,  have 
even  entertained  the  notion  that  all  the  formed  things 
found  in  rocks  are  of  this  nature;  and  if  no  such  con- 
ception is  at  present  held  to  be  admissible,  it  is  be- 
cause long  and  varied  experience  has  now  shown  that 
mineral  matter  never  does  assume  the  form  and  struc- 


50  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

ture  we  find  in  fossils.  If  any  one  were  to  try  to  per- 
suade you  that  an  oyster-shell  (which  is  also  chiefly 
composed  of  carbonate  of  lime)  had  crystallized  out  of 
sea-water,  I  suppose  you  would  laugh  at  the  absurdity. 
Your  laughter  would  be  justified  by  the  fact  that  all 
experience  tends  to  show  that  oyster-shells  are  formed 
by  the  agency  of  oysters,  and  in  no  other  way.  And  if 
there  were  no  better  reasons,  we  should  be  justified,  on 
like  grounds,  in  believing  that  Globigerina  is  not  the 
product  of  anything  but  vital  activity. 

Happily,  however,  better  evidence  in  proof  of  the 
organic  nature  of  the  Globigerince  than  that  of  analogy 
is  forthcoming.  It  so  happens  that  calcareous  skele- 
tons, exactly  similar  to  the  Globigerince  of  the  chalk, 
are  being  formed,  at  the  present  moment,  by  minute 
living  creatures,  which  flourish  in  multitudes,  literally 
more  numerous  than  the  sands  of  the  sea-shore,  over 
a  large  extent  of  that  part  of  the  earth's  surface  which 
is  covered  by  the  ocean. 

The  history  of  the  discovery  of  these  living  Globi- 
gerince, and  of  the  part  which  they  play  in  rock  build- 
ing, is  singular  enough.  It  is  a  discovery  which,  like 
others  of  no  less  scientific  importance,  has  arisen,  in- 
cidentally, out  of  work  devoted  to  very  different  and 
exceedingly  practical  interests. 

When  men  first  took  to  the  sea,  they  speedily  learned 
to  look  out  for  shoals  and  rocks;  and  the  more  the 
burthen  of  their  ships  increased,  the  more  impera- 
tively necessary  it  became  for  sailors  to  ascertain  with 
precision  the  depths  of  the  waters  they  traversed.  Out 
of  this  necessity  grew  the  use  of  the  lead  and  sounding 
line;  and,  ultimately,  marine-surveying,  which  is  the 
recording  of  the  form  of  coasts  and  of  the  depth  of  the 
sea,  as  ascertained  by  the  sounding-lead,  upon  charts. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  51 

At  the  same  time,  it  became  desirable  to  ascertain 
and  to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  sea-bottom,  since  this 
circumstance  greatly  affects  its  goodness  as  holding 
ground  for  anchors.  Some  ingenious  tar,  whose  name 
deserves  a  better  fate  than  the  oblivion  into  which  it  has 
fallen,  attained  this  object  by  "arming"  the  bottom  of 
the  lead  with  a  lump  of  grease,  to  which  more  or  less  of 
the  sand  or  mud,  or  broken  shells,  as  the  case  might 
be,  adhered,  and  was  brought  to  the  surface.  But, 
however  well  adapted  such  an  apparatus  might  be 
for  rough  nautical  purposes,  scientific  accuracy  could 
not  be  expected  from  the  armed  lead,  and  to  remedy 
its  defects  (especially  when  applied  to  sounding  in 
great  depths)  Lieut.  Brooke,  of  the  American  Navy, 
some  years  ago  invented  a  most  ingenious  machine, 
by  which  a  considerable  portion  of  the  superficial  layer 
of  the  sea-bottom  can  be  scooped  out  and  brought  up 
from  any  depth  to  which  the  lead  descends. 

In  1853,  Lieut.  Brooke  obtained  mud  from  the 
bottom  of  the  North  Atlantic,  between  Newfoundland 
and  the  Azores,  at  a  depth  of  more  than  ten  thousand 
feet,  or  two  miles,  by  the  help  of  this  sounding  appa- 
ratus. The  specimens  were  sent  for  examination  to 
Ehrenberg  of  Berlin,  and  to  Bailey  of  West  Point,  and 
those  able  microscopists  found  that  this  deep-sea  mud 
was  almost  entirely  composed  of  the  skeletons  of  living 
organisms  —  the  greater  proportion  of  these  being 
just  like  the  Globigerince  already  known  to  occur  in 
the  chalk. 

Thus  far,  the  work  had  been  carried  on  simply  in  the 
interests  of  science,  but  Lieut.  Brooke's  method  of 
sounding  acquired  a  high  commercial  value,  when  the 
enterprise  of  laying  down  the  telegraph-cable  between 
this  country  and  the  United  States  was  undertaken. 


52  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

For  it  became  a  matter  of  immense  importance  to 
know,  not  only  the  depth  of  the  sea  over  the  whole 
line  along  which  the  cable  was  to  be  laid,  but  the  exact 
nature  of  the  bottom,  so  as  to  guard  against  chances  of 
cutting  or  fraying  the  strands  of  that  costly  rope.  The 
Admiralty  consequently  ordered  Captain  Dayman, 
an  old  friend  and  shipmate  of  mine,  to  ascertain  the 
depth  over  the  whole  line  of  the  cable,  and  to  bring 
back  specimens  of  the  bottom.  In  former  days,  such 
a  command  as  this  might  have  sounded  very  much  like 
one  of  the  impossible  things  which  the  young  prince 
in  the  Fairy  Tales  is  ordered  to  do  before  he  can  ob- 
tain the  hand  of  the  Princess.  However,  in  the  months 
of  June  and  July,  1857,  my  friend  performed  the  task 
assigned  to  him  with  great  expedition  and  precision 
without,  so  far  as  I  know,  having  met  with  any  reward 
of  that  kind.  The  specimens  of  Atlantic  mud  which 
he  procured  were  sent  to  me  to  be  examined  and  re- 
ported upon.1 

The  result  of  all  these  operations  is,  that  we  know 
the  contours  and  the  nature  of  the  surface-soil  covered 
by  the  North  Atlantic,  for  a  distance  of  seventeen  hun- 
dred miles  from  east  to  west,  as  well  as  we  know  that  of 
any  part  of  the  dry  land. 

It  is  a  prodigious  plain  —  one  of  the  widest  and  most 
even  plains  in  the  world.  If  the  sea  were  drained  off, 
you  might  drive  a  wagon  all  the  way  from  Valentia,  on 
the  west  coast  of  Ireland,  to  Trinity  Bay,  in  Newfound- 
land. And,  except  upon  one  sharp  incline  about  two 

1  See  Appendix  to  Captain  Dayman's  "  Deep-sea  Soundings  in  the 
North  Atlantic  Ocean,  between  Ireland  and  Newfoundland,  made  in 
H.M.S.  Cyclops.  Published  by  order  of  the  Lords  Commissioners  of 
the  Admiralty,  1858."  They  have  since  formed  the  subject  of  an 
elaborate  Memoir  by  Messrs.  Parker  and  Jones,  published  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions  for  1865. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  53 

hundred  miles  from  Valentia,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that 
it  would  even  be  necessary  to  put  the  skid  on,  so  gentle 
are  the  ascents  and  descents  upon  that  long  route. 
From  Valentia  the  road  would  lie  down-hill  for  about 
200  miles  to  the  point  at  which  the  bottom  is  now 
covered  by  1700  fathoms  of  sea-water.  Then  would 
come  the  central  plain,  more  than  a  thousand  miles 
wide,  the  inequalities  of  the  surface  of  which  would  be 
hardly  perceptible,  though  the  depth  of  water  upon  it 
now  varies  from  10,000  to  15,000  feet;  and  there  are 
places  in  which  Mont  Blanc  might  be  sunk  without 
showing  its  peak  above  water.  Beyond  this,  the  as- 
cent on  the  American  side  commences,  and  gradually 
leads,  for  about  300  miles,  to  the  Newfoundland  shore. 

Almost  the  whole  of  the  bottom  of  this  central  plain 
(which  extends  for  many  hundred  miles  in  a  north 
and  south  direction)  is  covered  by  a  fine  mud,  which, 
when  brought  to  the  surface,  dries  into  a  greyish-white 
friable  substance.  You  can  write  with  this  on  a  black- 
board, if  you  are  so  inclined;  and,  to  the  eye,  it  is 
quite  like  very  soft,  greyish  chalk.  Examined  chemi- 
cally, it  proves  to  be  composed  almost  wholly  of  car- 
bonate of  lime ;  and  if  you  make  a  section  of  it,  in  the 
same  way  as  that  of  the  piece  of  chalk  was  made,  and 
view  it  with  the  microscope,  it  presents  innumerable 
Globigerince  embedded  in  a  granular  matrix. 

Thus  this  deep-sea  mud  is  substantially  chalk.  I  say 
substantially,  because  there  are  a  good  many  minor 
differences ;  but  as  these  have  no  bearing  on  the  ques- 
tion immediately  before  us,  —  which  is  the  nature  of 
the  Globigerince  of  the  chalk,  —  it  is  unnecessary  to 
speak  of  them. 

GlobigerincB  of  every  size,  from  the  smallest  to  the 
largest,  are  associated  together  in  the  Atlantic  mud, 


54  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

and  the  chambers  of  many  are  filled  by  a  soft  animal 
matter.  This  soft  substance  is,  in  fact,  the  remains 
of  the  creature  to  which  the  Globigerina  shell,  or  rather 
skeleton,  owes  its  existence  —  and  which  is  an  animal 
of  the  simplest  imaginable  description.  It  is,  in  fact, 
a  mere  particle  of  living  jelly,  without  defined  parts 
of  any  kind  —  without  a  mouth,  nerves,  muscles,  or 
distinct  organs,  and  only  manifesting  its  vitality  to 
ordinary  observation  by  thrusting  out  and  retracting 
from  all  parts  of  its  surface,  long  filamentous  processes, 
which  serve  for  arms  and  legs.  Yet  this  amorphous 
particle,  devoid  of  everything  which,  in  the  higher 
animals,  we  call  organs,  is  capable  of  feeding,  growing 
and  multiplying ;  of  separating  from  the  ocean  the  small 
proportion  of  carbonate  of  lime  which  is  dissolved  in 
sea-water;  and  of  building  up  that  substance  into  a 
skeleton  for  itself,  according  to  a  pattern  which  can 
be  imitated  by  no  other  known  agency. 

The  notion  that  animals  can  live  and  flourish  in  the 
sea,  at  the  vast  depths  from  which  apparently  living 
Globigerince  have  been  brought  up,  does  not  agree  very 
well  with  our  usual  conceptions  respecting  the  condi- 
tions of  animal  life;  and  it  is  not  so  absolutely  impos- 
sible as  it  might  at  first  appear  to  be,  that  the  Globi- 
gerinoe  of  the  Atlantic  sea-bottom  do  not  live  and  die 
where  they  are  found. 

As  I  have  mentioned,  the  soundings  from  the  great 
Atlantic  plain  are  almost  entirely  made  up  of  Globi- 
gerinoe,  with  the  granules  which  have  been  mentioned 
and  some  few  other  calcareous  shells ;  but  a  small  per- 
centage of  the  chalky  mud  —  perhaps  at  most  some 
five  per  cent  of  it  —  is  of  a  different  nature,  and  con- 
sists of  shells  and  skeletons  composed  of  silex,  or  pure 
flint.  These  silicious  bodies  belong  partly  to  the  lowly 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  55 

vegetable  organisms  which  are  called  Diatomacece, 
and  partly  to  the  minute,  and  extremely  simple,  ani- 
mals, termed  Radiolaria.  It  is  quite  certain  that  these 
creatures  do  not  live  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  but 
at  its  surface  —  where  they  may  be  obtained  in  pro- 
digious numbers  by  the  use  of  a  properly  constructed 
net.  Hence  it  follows  that  these  silicious  organisms, 
though  they  are  not  heavier  than  the  lightest  dust, 
must  have  fallen,  in  some  cases,  through  fifteen  thou- 
sand feet  of  water,  before  they  reached  their  final  rest- 
ing-place on  the  ocean  floor.  And,  considering  how 
large  a  surface  these  bodies  expose  in  proportion  to  their 
weight,  it  is  probable  that  they  occupy  a  great  length 
of  time  in  making  their  burial  journey  from  the  surface 
of  the  Atlantic  to  the  bottom. 

But  if  the  Radiolaria  and  Diatoms  are  thus  rained 
upon  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  from  the  superficial  layer 
of  its  waters  in  which  they  pass  their  lives,  it  is  ob- 
viously possible  that  the  Globigerince  may  be  similarly 
derived;  and  if  they  were  so,  it  would  be  much  more 
easy  to  understand  how  they  obtain  their  supply  of 
food  than  it  is  at  present.  Nevertheless,  the  positive 
and  negative  evidence  all  points  the  other  way.  The 
skeletons  of  the  full-grown,  deep-sea  Globigerince  are 
so  remarkably  solid  and  heavy  in  proportion  to  their 
surface  as  to  seem  little  fitted  for  floating;  and,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  they  are  not  to  be  found  along  with  the 
Diatoms  and  Radiolaria,  in  the  uppermost  stratum  of 
the  open  ocean. 

It  has  been  observed,  again,  that  the  abundance  of 
Globigerinos,  in  proportion  to  other  organisms,  of  like 
kind,  increases  with  the  depth  of  the  sea;  and  that 
deep-water  Globigerinas  are  larger  than  those  which 
live  in  shallower  parts  of  the  sea;  and  such  facts  nega- 


56  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

live  the  supposition  that  these  organisms  have  been 
swept  by  currents  from  the  shallows  into  the  deeps  of 
the  Atlantic. 

It  therefore  seems  to  be  hardly  doubtful  that  these 
wonderful  creatures  live  and  die  at  the  depths  in  which 
they  are  found. 

However,  the  important  points  for  us  are,  that  the 
living  Globigerince  are  exclusively  marine  animals,  the 
skeletons  of  which  abound  at  the  bottom  of  deep  seas ; 
and  that  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  reason  for  believing 
that  the  habits  of  the  Globigerince  of  the  chalk  differed 
from  those  of  the  existing  species.  But  if  this  be  true, 
there  is  no  escaping  the  conclusion  that  the  chalk 
itself  is  the  dried  mud  of  an  ancient  deep  sea. 

In  working  over  the  soundings  collected  by  Captain 
Dayman,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  many  of  what 
I  have  called  the  "granules"  of  that  mud,  were  not, 
as  one  might  have  been  tempted  to  think  at  first,  the 
mere  powder  and  waste  of  Globigerince,  but  that  they 
had  a  definite  form  and  size.  I  termed  these  bodies 
"  coccoliths,"  and  doubted  their  organic  nature.  Dr. 
Wallich  verified  my  observation,  and  added  the  inter- 
esting discovery,  that,  not  unfrequently,  bodies  simi- 
lar* to  these  "  coccoliths  "  were  aggregated  together  into 
spheroids,  which  he  termed  "  coccosptwres."  So  far  as 
we  knew,  these  bodies,  the  nature  of  which  is  ex- 
tremely puzzling  and  problematical,  were  peculiar  to 
the  Atlantic  soundings. 

But,  a  few  years  ago,  Mr.  Sorby,  in  making  a  care- 
ful examination  of  the  chalk  by  means  of  thin  sections 
and  otherwise,  observed,  as  Ehrenberg  had  done  be- 
fore him,  that  much  of  its  granular  basis  possesses  a 
definite  form.  Comparing  these  formed  particles 
with  those  in  the  Atlantic  soundings,  he  found  the  two 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  57 

to  be  identical;  and  thus  proved  that  the  chalk,  like 
the  soundings,  contains  these  mysterious  coccoliths 
and  coccospheres.  Here  was  a  further  and  a  most  in- 
teresting confirmation,  from  internal  evidence,  of  the 
essential  identity  of  the  chalk  with  modern  deep-sea 
mud.  Globigerince,  coccoliths,  and  coccospheres  are 
found  as  the  chief  constituents  of  both,  and  testify  to 
the  general  similarity  of  the  conditions  under  which 
both  have  been  formed. 

The  evidence  furnished  by  the  hewing,  facing,  and 
superposition  of  the  stones  of  the  Pyramids,  that  these 
structures  were  built  by  men,  has  no  greater  weight 
than  the  evidence  that  the  chalk  was  built  by  Globi- 
gerince ;  and  the  belief  that  those  ancient  pyramid- 
builders  were  terrestrial  and  air-breathing  creatures 
like  ourselves,  is  it  not  better  based  than  the  conviction 
that  the  chalk-makers  lived  in  the  sea? 

But  as  our  belief  in  the  building  of  the  Pyramids  by 
men  is  not  only  grounded  on  the  internal  evidences 
afforded  by  these  structures,  but  gathers  strength  from 
multitudinous  collateral  proofs,  and  is  clinched  by  the 
total  absence  of  any  reason  for  a  contrary  belief;  so 
the  evidence  drawn  from  the  Globigerince  that  the 
chalk  is  an  ancient  sea-bottom,  is  fortified  by  innumer- 
able independent  lines  of  evidence;  and  our  belief  in 
the  truth  of  the  conclusion  to  which  all  positive  testi- 
mony tends,  receives  the  like  negative  justification  from 
the  fact  that  no  other  hypothesis  has  a  shadow  of 
foundation. 

It  may  be  worth  while  briefly  to  consider  a  few  of 
these  collateral  proofs  that  the  chalk  was  deposited 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

The  great  mass  of  the  chalk  is  composed,  as  we  have 
seen,  of  the  skeletons  of  Globigerina,  and  other  simple 


58  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

organisms,  imbedded  in  granular  matter.  Here  and 
there,  however,  this  hardened  mud  of  the  ancient  sea 
reveals  the  remains  of  higher  animals  which  have  lived 
and  died,  and  left  their  hard  parts  in  the  mud,  just  as 
the  oysters  die  and  leave  their  shells  behind  them,  in 
the  mud  of  the  present  seas. 

There  are,  at  the  present  day,  certain  groups  of 
animals  which  are  never  found  in  fresh  waters,  being 
unable  to  live  anywhere  but  in  the  sea.  Such  are  the 
corals ;  those  corallines  which  are  called  Polycoa  ;  those 
creatures  which  fabricate  the  lamp-shells,  and  are 
called  Brachiopoda ;  the  pearly  Nautilus,  and  all  ani- 
mals allied  to  it ;  and  all  the  forms  of  sea-urchins  and 
star-fishes. 

Not  only  are  all  these  creatures  confined  to  salt 
water  at  the  present  day ;  but,  so  far  as  our  records  of 
the  past  go,  the  conditions  of  their  existence  have  been 
the  same :  hence,  their  occurrence  in  any  deposit  is  as 
strong  evidence  as  can  be  obtained,  that  that  deposit 
was  formed  in  the  sea.  Now  the  remains  of  animals  of 
all  the  kinds  which  have  been  enumerated,  occur  in 
the  chalk,  in  greater  or  less  abundance;  while  not  one 
of  those  forms  of  shell-fish  which  are  characteristic  of 
fresh  water  has  yet  been  observed  in  it. 

When  we  consider  that  the  remains  of  more  than 
three  thousand  distinct  species  of  aquatic  animals  have 
been  discovered  among  the  fossils  of  the  chalk,  that 
the  great  majority  of  them  are  of  such  forms  as  are 
now  met  with  only  in  the  sea,  and  that  there  is  no  rea- 
son to  believe  that  any  one  of  them  inhabited  fresh 
water  —  the  collateral  evidence  that  the  chalk  repre- 
sents an  ancient  sea-bottom  acquires  as  great  force 
as  the  proof  derived  from  the  nature  of  the  chalk  it- 
self. I  think  you  will  now  allow  that  I  did  not  over- 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  59 

state  my  case  when  I  asserted  that  we  have  as  strong 
grounds  for  believing  that  all  the  vast  area  of  dry  land, 
at  present  occupied  by  the  chalk,  was  once  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea,  as  we  have  for  any  matter  of  history 
whatever;  while  there  is  no  justification  for  any  other 
belief. 

No  less  certain  it  is  that  the  time  during  which  the 
countries  we  now  call  south-east  England,  France, 
Germany,  Poland,  Russia,  Egypt,  Arabia,  Syria,  were 
more  or  less  completely  covered  by  a  deep  sea,  was  of 
considerable  duration. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  chalk  is,  in  places, 
more  than  a  thousand  feet  thick.  I  think  you  will  agree 
with  me,  that  it  must  have  taken  some  time  for  the 
skeletons  of  animalcules  of  a  hundredth  of  an  inch 
in  diameter  to  heap  up  such  a  mass  as  that.  I  have 
said  that  throughout  the  thickness  of  the  chalk  the 
remains  of  other  animals  are  scattered.  These  re- 
mains are  often  in  the  most  exquisite  state  of  preser- 
vation. The  valves  of  the  shell-fishes  are  commonly 
adherent;  the  long  spines  of  some  of  the  sea-urchins, 
which  would  be  detached  by  the  smallest  jar,  often 
remain  in  their  places.  In  a  word,  it  is  certain  that 
these  animals  have  lived  and  died  when  the  place 
which  they  now  occupy  was  the  surface  of  as  much  of 
the  chalk  as  had  then  been  deposited;  and  that  each 
has  been  covered  up  by  the  layer  of  Globigerina  mud, 
upon  which  the  creatures  imbedded  a  little  higher  up 
have,  in  like  manner,  lived  and  died.  But  some  of  these 
remains  prove  the  existence  of  reptiles  of  vast  size  in 
the  chalk  sea.  These  lived  their  time,  and  had  their 
ancestors  and  descendants,  which  assuredly  implies 
time,  reptiles  being  of  slow  growth. 

There  is  more  curious  evidence,  again,  that  the  pro- 


60  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

cess  of  covering  up,  or,  in  other  words,  the  deposit  of 
Globigerina  skeletons,  did  not  go  on  very  fast.  It  is 
demonstrable  that  an  animal  of  the  cretaceous  sea 
might  die,  that  its  skeleton  might  lie  Mncovered  upon 
the  sea-bottom  long  enough  to  lose  all  its  outward  cover- 
ings and  appendages  by  putrefaction;  and  that,  after 
this  had  happened,  another  animal  might  attach  itself 
to  the  dead  and  naked  skeleton,  might  grow  to  matu- 
rity, and  might  itself  die  before  the  calcareous  mud 
had  buried  the  whole. 

Cases  of  this  kind  are  admirably  described  by  Sir 
Charles  Lyell.  He  speaks  of  the  frequency  with  which 
geologists  find  in  the  chalk  a  fossilized  sea-urchin,  to 
which  is  attached  the  lower  valve  of  a  Crania.  This  is 
a  kind  of  shell-fish,  with  a  shell  composed  of  two 
pieces,  of  which,  as  in  the  oyster,  one  is  fixed  and  the 
other  free. 

"The  upper  valve  is  almost  invariably  wanting, 
though  occasionally  found  in  a  perfect  state  of  pre- 
servation in  the  white  chalk  at  some  distance.  In  this 
case,  we  see  clearly  that  the  sea-urchin  first  lived  from 
youth  to  age,  then  died  and  lost  its  spines,  which  were 
carried  away.  Then  the  young  Crania  adhered  to  the 
bared  shell,  grew  and  perished  in  its  turn ;  after  which, 
the  upper  valve  was  separated  from  the  lower,  before 
the  Echinus  became  enveloped  in  chalky  mud." 

A  specimen  in  the  Museum  of  Practical  Geology,  in 
London,  still  further  prolongs  the  period  which  must 
have  elapsed  between  the  death  of  the  sea-urchin,  and 
its  burial  by  the  Globigerince.  For  the  outward  face  of 
the  valve  of  a  Crania,  which  is  attached  to  a  sea-urchin 
(Micraster),  is  itself  overrun  by  an  incrusting  coralline, 
which  spreads  thence  over  more  or  less  of  the  surface 
of  the  sea-urchin.  It  follows  that,  after  the  upper 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  61 

valve  of  the  Crania  fell  off,  the  surface  of  the  attached 
valve  must  have  remained  exposed  long  enough  to 
allow  of  the  growth  of  the  whole  corraline,  since  coral- 
lines do  not  live  imbedded  in  mud. 

The  progress  of  knowledge  may,  one  day,  enable  us 
to  deduce  from  such  facts  as  these  the  maximum  rate 
at  which  the  chalk  can  have  accumulated,  and  thus  to 
arrive  at  the  minimum  duration  of  the  chalk  period. 
Suppose  that  the  valve  of  the  Crania  upon  which  a 
coralline  has  fixed  itself  in  the  way  just  described,  is  so 
attached  to  the  sea-urchin  that  no  part  of  it  is  more 
than  an  inch  above  the  face  upon  which  the  sea-urchin 
rests.  Then,  as  the  coralline  could  not  have  fixed  itself, 
if  the  Crania  had  been  covered  up  with  chalk  mud, 
and  could  not  have  lived  had  itself  been  so  covered 
it  follows,  that  an  inch  of  chalk  mud  could  not  have 
accumulated  within  the  time  between  the  death  and 
decay  of  the  soft  parts  of  the  sea-urchin  and  the  growth 
of  the  coralline  to  the  full  size  which  it  has  attained. 
If  the  decay  of  the  soft  parts  of  the  sea-urchin;  the 
attachment,  growth  to  maturity,  and  decay  of  the 
Crania;  and  the  subsequent  attachment  and  growth 
of  the  coralline,  took  a  year  (which  is  a  low  estimate 
enough),  the  accumulation  of  the  inch  of  chalk  must 
have  taken  more  than  a  year:  and  the  deposit  of  a 
thousand  feet  of  chalk  must,  consequently,  have  taken 
more  than  twelve  thousand  years. 

The  foundation  of  all  this  calculation  is,  of  course, 
a  knowledge  of  the  length  of  time  the  Crania  and  the 
coralline  needed  to  attain  their  full  size;  and,  on  this 
head,  precise  knowledge  is  at  present  wanting.  But 
there  are  circumstances  which  tend  to  show,  that 
nothing  like  an  inch  of  chalk  has  accumulated  during 
the  life  of  a  Crania ;  and,  on  any  probable  estimate  of 


62  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

the  length  of  that  life,  the  chalk  period  must  have  had 
a  much  longer  duration  than  that  thus  roughly  as- 
signed to  it. 

Thus,  not  only  is  it  certain  that  the  chalk  is  the  mud 
of  an  ancient  sea-bottom;  but  it  is  no  less  certain,  that 
the  chalk  sea  existed  during  an  extremely  long  period, 
though  we  may  not  be  prepared  to  give  a  precise  esti- 
mate of  the  length  of  that  period  in  years.  The  relative 
duration  is  clear,  though  the  absolute  duration  may 
not  be  definable.  The  attempt  to  affix  any  precise 
date  to  the  period  at  which  the  chalk  sea  began,  or 
ended,  its  existence,  is  baffled  by  difficulties  of  the  same 
kind.  But  the  relative  age  of  the  cretaceous  epoch  may 
be  determined  with  as  great  ease  and  certainty  as  the 
long  duration  of  that  epoch. 

You  will  have  heard  of  the  interesting  discoveries 
recently  made,  in  various  parts  of  Western  Europe,  of 
flint  implements,  obviously  worked  into  shape  by  hu- 
man hands,  under  circumstances  which  show  conclu- 
sively that  man  is  a  very  ancient  denizen  of  these  re- 
gions. 

It  has  been  proved  that  the  old  populations  of 
Europe,  whose  existence  has  been  revealed  to  us  in 
this  way,  consisted  of  savages,  such  as  the  Esquimaux 
are  now ;  that,  in  the  country  which  is  now  France,  they 
hunted  the  reindeer,  and  were  familiar  with  the  ways 
of  the  mammoth  and  the  bison.  The  physical  geography 
of  France  was  in  those  days  different  from  what  it 
is  now  —  the  river  Somme,  for  instance,  having  cut 
its  bed  a  hundred  feet  deeper  between  that  time  and 
this;  and,  it  is  probable,  that  the  climate  was  more  like 
that  of  Canada  or  Siberia,  than  that  of  Western 
Europe. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  63 

The  existence  of  these  people  is  forgotten  even  in 
the  traditions  of  the  oldest  historical  nations.  The  name 
and  fame  of  them  had  utterly  vanished  until  a  few 
years  back ;  and  the  amount  of  physical  change  which 
has  been  effected  since  their  day,  renders  it  more  than 
probable  that,  venerable  as  are  some  of  the  historical 
nations,  the  workers  of  the  chipped  flints  of  Hoxne  or 
of  Amiens  are  to  them,  as  they  are  to  us,  in  point  of 
antiquity. 

But,  if  we  assign  to  these  hoar  relics  of  long- vanished 
generations  of  men  the  greatest  age  that  can  possibly 
be  claimed  for  them,  they  are  not  older  than  the  drift, 
or  boulder  clay,  which,  in  comparison  with  the  chalk, 
is  but  a  very  juvenile  deposit.  You  need  go  no  further 
than  your  own  sea-board  for  evidence  of  this  fact.  At 
one  of  the  most  charming  spots  on  the  coast  of  Nor- 
folk, Cromer,  you  will  see  the  boulder  clay  forming  a 
vast  mass,  which  lies  upon  the  chalk,  and  must  con- 
sequently have  come  into  existence  after  it.  Huge 
boulders  of  chalk  are,  in  fact,  included  in  the  clay,  and 
have  evidently  been  brought  to  the  position  they  now 
occupy,  by  the  same  agency  as  that  which  has  planted 
blocks  of  syenite  from  Norway  side  by  side  with  them. 

The  chalk,  then,  is  certainly  older  than  the  boulder 
clay.  If  you  ask  how  much,  I  will  again  take  you  no 
further  than  the  same  spot  upon  your  own  coasts  for 
evidence.  I  have  spoken  of  the  boulder  clay  and  drift 
as  resting  upon  the  chalk.  That  is  not  strictly  true. 
Interposed  between  the  chalk  and  the  drift  is  a  com- 
paratively insignificant  layer,  containing  vegetable 
matter.  But  that  layer  tells  a  wonderful  history.  It  is 
full  of  stumps  of  trees  standing  as  they  grew.  Fir- 
trees  are  there  with  their  cones,  and  hazel-bushes  with 
their  nuts ;  there  stand  the  stools  of  oak  and  yew  trees, 


64  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

beeches  and  alders.  Hence  this  stratum  is  appropriately 
called  the  "forest-bed." 

It  is  obvious  that  the  chalk  must  have  been  up- 
heaved and  converted  into  dry  land,  before  the  timber 
trees  could  grow  upon  it.  As  the  boles  of  some  of  these 
trees  are  from  two  to  three  feet  in  diameter,  it  is  no  less 
clear  that  the  dry  land  this  formed  remained  in  the 
same  condition  for  long  ages.  And  not  only  do  the  re- 
mains of  stately  oaks  and  well-grown  firs  testify  to  the 
duration  of  this  condition  of  things,  but  additional  evi- 
dence to  the  same  effect  is  afforded  by  the  abundant 
remains  of  elephants,  rhinoceroses,  hippopotomuses 
and  other  great  wild  beasts,  which  it  has  yielded  to  the 
zealous  search  of  such  men  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gunn. 

When  you  look  at  such  a  collection  as  he  has  formed, 
and  bethink  you  that  these  elephantine  bones  did  veri- 
tably carry  their  owners  about,  and  these  great  grinders 
crunch,  in  the  dark  woods  of  which  the  forest-bed  is 
now  the  only  trace,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  that  they 
are  as  good  evidence  of  the  lapse  of  time  as  the  annual 
rings  of  the  tree-stumps. 

Thus  there  is  a  writing  upon  the  walls  of  cliffs  at 
Cromer,  and  whoso  runs  may  read  it.  It  tells  us,  with 
an  authority  which  cannot  be  impeached,  that  the 
ancient  sea-bed  of  the  chalk  sea  was  raised  up,  and 
remained  dry  land,  until  it  was  covered  with  forest, 
stocked  with  the  great  game  whose  spoils  have  rejoiced 
your  geologists.  How  long  it  remained  in  that  condi- 
tion cannot  be  said ;  but  "  the  whirligig  of  time  brought 
its  revenges"  in  those  days  as  in  these.  That  dry  land, 
with  the  bones  and  teeth  of  generations  of  long-lived 
elephants,  hidden  away  among  the  gnarled  roots  and 
dry  leaves  of  its  ancient  trees,  sank  gradually  to  the 
bottom  of  the  icy  sea,  which  covered  it  with  huge  masses 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  65 

of  drift  and  boulder  clay.  Sea-beasts,  such  as  the  wal- 
rus, now  restricted  to  the  extreme  north,  paddled  about 
where  birds  had  twittered  among  the  topmost  twigs  of 
the  fir-trees.  How  long  this  state  of  things  endured  we 
know  not,  but  at  length  it  came  to  an  end.  The  up- 
heaved glacial  mud  hardened  into  the  soil  of  modern 
Norfolk.  Forests  grew  once  more,  the  wolf  and  the 
beaver  replaced  the  reindeer  and  the  elephant;  and  at 
length  what  we  call  the  history  of  England  dawned. 

Thus  you  have  within  the  limits  of  your  own 
county,  proof  that  the  chalk  can  justly  claim  a  very  much 
greater  antiquity  than  even  the  oldest  physical  traces  of 
mankind.  But  we  may  go  further  and  demonstrate, 
by  evidence  of  the  same  authority  as  that  which  testi- 
fies to  the  existence  of  the  father  of  men,  that  the 
chalk  is  vastly  older  than  Adam  himself. 

The  Book  of  Genesis  informs  us  that  Adam,  imme- 
diately upon  his  creation,  and  before  the  appearance 
of  Eve,  was  placed  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  The  prob- 
lem of  the  geographical  position  of  Eden  has  greatly 
vexed  the  spirits  of  the  learned  in  such  matters,  but 
there  is  one  point  respecting  which,  so  far  as  I  know, 
no  commentator  has  ever  raised  a  doubt.  This  is, 
that  of  the  four  rivers  which  are  said  to  run  out  of 
it,  Euphrates  and  Hiddekel  are  identical  with  the 
rivers  now  known  by  the  names  of  Euphrates  and 
Tigris. 

But  the  whole  country  in  which  these  mighty  rivers 
take  their  origin,  and  through  which  they  run,  is  com- 
posed of  rocks  which  are  either  of  the  same  age  as  the 
chalk,  or  of  later  date.  So  that  the  chalk  must  not  only 
have  been  formed,  but,  after  its  formation,  the  time 
required  for  the  deposit  of  these  later  rocks,  and  for 
their  upheaval  into  dry  land,  must  have  elapsed,  before 


66  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

the  smallest  brook  which  feeds  the  swift  stream  of 
"  the  great  river,  the  river  of  Babylon,"  began  to  flow. 

Thus,  evidence  which  cannot  be  rebutted,  and  which 
need  not  be  strengthened,  though  if  time  permitted 
I  might  indefinitely  increase  its  quantity,  compels  you 
to  believe  that  the  earth,  from  the  time  of  the  chalk  to 
the  present  day,  has  been  the  theatre  of  a  series  of 
changes  as  vast  in  their  amount,  as  they  were  slow 
in  their  progress.  The  area  on  which  we  stand  has  been 
first  sea  and  then  land,  for  at  least  four  alternations; 
and  has  remained  in  each  of  these  conditions  for  a 
period  of  great  length. 

Nor  have  these  wonderful  metamorphoses  of  sea 
into  land,  and  of  land  into  sea,  been  confined  to  one 
corner  of  England.  During  the  chalk  period,  or  "cre- 
taceous epoch,"  not  one  of  the  present  great  physical 
features  of  the  globe  was  in  existence.  Our  great  moun- 
tain ranges,  Pyrenees,  Alps,  Himalayas,  Andes,  have 
all  been  upheaved  since  the  chalk  was  deposited,  and 
the  cretaceous  sea  flowed  over  the  sites  of  Sinai  and 
Ararat. 

All  this  is  certain,  because  rocks  of  cretaceous,  or 
still  later,  date  have  shared  in  the  elevatory  move- 
ments which  gave  rise  to  these  mountain  chains;  and 
may  be  found  perched  up,  in  some  cases,  many  thou- 
sand feet  high  upon  their  flanks.  And  evidence  of  equal 
cogency  demonstrates  that,  though,  in  Norfolk,  the 
forest-bed  rests  directly  upon  the  chalk,  yet  it  does  so, 
not  because  the  period  at  which  the  forest  grew  imme- 
diately followed  that  at  which  the  chalk  was  formed, 
but  because  an  immense  lapse  of  time,  represented 
elsewhere  by  thousands  of  feet  of  rock,  is  not  indicated 
at  Cromer. 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  67 

I  must  ask  you  to  believe  that  there  is  no  less  con- 
clusive proof  that  a  still  more  prolonged  succession  of 
similar  changes  occurred,  before  the  chalk  was  de- 
posited. Nor  have  we  any  reason  to  think  that  the 
first  term  in  the  series  of  these  changes  is  known.  The 
oldest  sea-beds  preserved  to  us  are  sands,  and  mud, 
and  pebbles,  the  wear  and  tear  of  rocks  which  were 
formed  in  still  older  oceans. 

But,  great  as  is  the  magnitude  of  these  physical 
changes  of  the  world,  they  have  been  accompanied  by 
a  no  less  striking  series  of  modifications  in  its  living 
inhabitants. 

All  the  great  classes  of  animals,  beasts  of  the  field, 
fowls  of  the  air,  creeping  things,  and  things  which 
dwell  in  the  waters,  flourished  upon  the  globe  long  ages 
before  the  chalk  was  deposited.  Very  few,  however, 
if  any,  of  these  ancient  forms  of  animal  life  were  iden- 
tical with  those  which  now  live.  Certainly  not  one  of 
the  higher  animals  was  of  the  same  species  as  any  of 
those  now  in  existence.  The  beasts  of  the  field,  in  the 
days  before  the  chalk,  were  not  our  beasts  of  the  field, 
nor  the  fowls  of  the  air  such  as  those  which  the  eye 
of  men  has  seen  flying,  unless  his  antiquity  dates  in- 
finitely further  back  than  we  at  present  surmise.  If 
we  could  be  carried  back  into  those  times,  we  should  be 
as  one  suddenly  set  down  in  Australia  before  it  was 
colonized.  We  should  see  mammals,  birds,  reptiles, 
fishes,  insects,  snails,  and  the  like,  clearly  recognisable 
as  such,  and  yet  not  one  of  them  would  be  just  the 
same  as  those  with  which  we  are  familiar,  and  many 
would  be  extremely  different. 

From  that  time  to  the  present,  the  population  of 
the  world  has  undergone  slow  and  gradual,  but  inces- 
sant changes.  There  has  been  no  grand  catastrophe 


68  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

—  no  destroyer  has  swept  away  the  forms  of  life  of  one 
period,  and  replaced  them  by  a  totally  new  creation ; 
but  one  species  has  vanished  and  another  has  taken 
its  place ;  creatures  of  one  type  of  structure  have  di- 
minished, those  of  another  have  increased,  as  time 
has  passed  on.  And  thus,  while  the  differences  be- 
tween the  living  creatures  of  the  time  before  the  chalk 
and  those  of  the  present  day  appear  startling,  if  placed 
side  by  side,  we  are  led  from  one  to  the  other  by  the 
most  gradual  progress,  if  we  follow  the  course  of  Na- 
ture through  the  whole  series  of  those  relics  of  her 
operations  which  she  has  left  behind. 

And  it  is  by  the  population  of  the  chalk  sea  that  the 
ancient  and  the  modern  inhabitants  of  the  world  are 
most  completely  connected.  The  groups  which  are 
dying  out  flourish,  side  by  side,  with  the  groups  which 
are  now  the  dominant  forms  of  life. 

Thus  the  chalk  contains  remains  of  those  strange 
flying  and  swimming  reptiles,  the  pterodactyl,  the  ich- 
thyosaurus, and  the  plesiosaurus,  which  are  found  in  no 
later  deposits,  but  abounded  in  preceding  ages.  The 
chambered  shells  called  ammonites  and  belemnites, 
which  are  so  characteristic  of  the  period  preceding 
the  cretaceous,  in  like  manner  die  with  it. 

But,  amongst  these  fading  remainders  of  a  previous 
state  of  things,  are  some  very  modern  forms  of  life, 
looking  like  Yankee  pedlars  among  a  tribe  of  Red 
Indians.  Crocodiles  of  modern  type  appear;  bony 
fishes,  many  of  them  very  similar  to  existing  species 
almost  supplant  the  forms  of  fish  which  predominate 
in  more  ancient  seas;  and  many  kinds  of  living  shell- 
fish first  become  known  to  us  in  the  chalk.  The  vege- 
tation acquires  a  modern  aspect.  A  few  living  animals 
are  not  even  distinguishable  as  species,  from  those 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  69 

which  existed  at  that  remote  epoch.  The  Globige- 
rina  of  the  present  day,  for  example,  is  not  different 
specifically  from  that  of  the  chalk ;  and  the  same  may 
be  said  of  many  other  Foraminifera.  I  think  it  prob- 
able that  critical  and  unprejudiced  examination  will 
show  that  more  than  one  species  of  much  higher  ani- 
mals have  had  a  similar  longevity;  but  the  only  ex- 
ample, which  I  can  at  present  give  confidently  is  the 
snake's-head  lamp-shell  (Terebratulina  caput  serpentis) , 
which  lives  in  our  English  seas  and  abounded  (as  Tere- 
bratulina striata  of  authors)  in  the  chalk. 

The  longest  line  of  human  ancestry  must  hide  its 
diminished  head  before  the  pedigree  of  this  insignifi- 
cant shell-fish.  We  Englishmen  are  proud  to  have  an 
ancestor  who  was  present  at  the  Battle  of  Hastings. 
The  ancestors  of  Terebratulina  caput  serpentis  may 
have  been  present  at  a  battle  of  Ichthyosauria  in  that 
part  of  the  sea  which,  when  the  chalk  was  forming, 
flowed  over  the  site  of  Hastings.  While  all  around  has 
changed,  this  Terebratulina  has  peacefully  propagated 
its  species  from  generation  to  generation,  and  stands 
to  this  day,  as  a  living  testimony  to  the  continuity  of 
the  present  with  the  past  history  of  the  globe. 

Up  to  this  moment  I  have  stated,  so  far  as  I  know, 
nothing  but  well-authenticated  facts,  and  the  imme- 
diate conclusions  which  they  force  upon  the  mind. 

But  the  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it  does  not  wil- 
lingly rest  in  facts  and  immediate  causes,  but  seeks 
always  after  a  knowledge  of  the  remoter  links  in  the 
chain  of  causation. 

Taking  the  many  changes  of  any  given  spot  of  the 
earth's  surface,  from  sea  to  land  and  from  land  to  sea, 
as  an  established  fact,  we  cannot  refrain  from  asking 


70  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

ourselves  how  these  changes  have  occurred.  And  when 
we  have  explained  them  —  as  they  must  be  explained 
—  by  the  alternate  slow  movements  of  elevation  and 
depression  which  have  affected  the  crust  of  the  earth, 
we  go  still  further  back,  and  ask,  Why  these  move- 
ments ? 

I  am  not  certain  that  any  one  can  give  you  a  satis- 
factory answer  to  that  question.  Assuredly  I  cannot. 
All  that  can  be  said,  for  certain,  is,  that  such  move- 
ments are  part  of  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  inas- 
much as  they  are  going  on  at  the  present  time.  Direct 
proof  may  be  given,  that  some  parts  of  the  land  of  the 
northern  hemisphere  are  at  this  moment  insensibly 
rising  and  others  insensibly  sinking;  and  there  is  in- 
direct, but  perfectly  satisfactory,  proof,  that  an  enor- 
mous area  now  covered  by  the  Pacific  has  been  deep- 
ened thousands  of  feet,  since  the  present  inhabitants 
of  that  sea  came  into  existence. 

Thus  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  a  reason  for  believ- 
ing that  the  physical  changes  of  the  globe,  in  past  times 
have  been  effected  by  other  than  natural  causes. 

Is  there  any  more  reason  for  believing  that  the 
concomitant  modifications  in  the  forms  of  the  living 
inhabitants  of  the  globe  have  been  brought  about  in 
other  ways  ? 

Before  attempting  to  answer  this  question,  let  us  try 
to  form  a  distinct  mental  picture  of  what  has  happened, 
in  some  special  case. 

The  crocodiles  are  animals  which,  as  a  group,  have 
a  very  vast  antiquity.  They  abounded  ages  before  the 
chalk  was  deposited ;  they  throng  the  rivers  in  warm 
climates,  at  the  present  day.  There  is  a  difference  in 
the  form  of  the  joints  of  the  back-bone,  and  in  some 
minor  particulars,  between  the  crocodiles  of  the  present 


ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK  71 

epoch  and  those  which  lived  before  the  chalk;  but,  in 
the  cretaceous  epoch,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  the 
crocodiles  had  assumed  the  modern  type  of  structure. 
Notwithstanding  this,  the  crocodiles  of  the  chalk  are 
not  identically  the  same  as  those  which  lived  in  the 
times  called  "older  tertiary,"  which  succeeded  the 
cretaceous  epoch;  and  the  crocodiles  of  the  older 
tertiaries  are  not  identical  with  those  of  the  newer 
tertiaries,  nor  are  these  identical  with  existing  forms. 
I  leave  open  the  question  whether  particular  species 
may  have  lived  on  from  epoch  to  epoch.  But  each 
epoch  has  had  its  peculiar  crocodiles;  though  all, 
since  the  chalk,  have  belonged  to  the  modern  type,  and 
differ  simply  in  their  proportions,  and  in  such  struc- 
tural particulars  as  are  discernible  only  to  trained  eyes. 

How  is  the  existence  of  this  long  succession  of  dif- 
ferent species  of  crocodiles  to  be  accounted  for? 

Only  two  suppositions  seem  to  be  open  to  us  — 
Either  each  species  of  crocodile  has  been  specially 
created,  or  it  has  arisen  out  of  some  pre-existing  form 
by  the  operation  of  natural  causes. 

Choose  your  hypothesis;  I  have  chosen  mine.  I 
can  find  no  warranty  for  believing  in  the  distinct  crea- 
tion of  a  score  of  successive  species  of  crocodiles  in  the 
course  of  countless  ages  of  time.  Science  gives  no  coun- 
tenance to  such  a  wild  fancy;  nor  can  even  the  per- 
verse ingenuity  of  a  commentator  pretend  to  discover 
this  sense,  in  the  simple  words  in  which  the  writer  of 
Genesis  records  the  proceedings  of  the  fifth  and  sixth 
days  of  the  Creation. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  see  no  good  reason  for  doubt- 
ing the  necessary  alternative,  that  all  these  varied 
species  have  been  evolved  from  pre-existing  crocodilian 
forms,  by  the  operation  of  causes  as  completely  a  part 


72  ON  A  PIECE  OF  CHALK 

of  the  common  order  of  nature,  as  those  which  have 
effected  the  changes  of  the  inorganic  world. 

Few  will  venture  to  affirm  that  the  reasoning  which 
applies  to  crocodiles  loses  its  force  among  other  ani- 
mals, or  among  plants.  If  one  series  of  species  has 
come  into  existence  by  the  operation  of  natural  causes, 
it  seems  folly  to  deny  that  all  may  have  arisen  in  the 
same  way. 

A  small  beginning  has  led  us  to  a  great  ending.  If  I 
were  to  put  the  bit  of  chalk  with  which  we  started  into 
the  hot  but  obscure  flame  of  burning  hydrogen,  it 
would  presently  shine  like  the  sun.  It  seems  to  me  that 
this  physical  metamorphosis  is  no  false  image  of  what 
has  been  the  result  of  our  subjecting  it  to  a  jet  of  fer- 
vent, though  nowise  brilliant,  thought  to-night.  It  has 
become  luminous,  and  its  clear  rays,  penetrating  the 
abyss  of  the  remote  past,  have  brought  within  our  ken 
some  stages  of  the  evolution  of  the  earth.  And  in  the 
shifting  "without  haste,  but  without  rest"  of  the  land 
and  sea,  as  in  the  endless  variation  of  the  forms  as- 
sumed by  living  beings,  we  have  observed  nothing 
but  the  natural  product  of  the  forces  originally  pos- 
sessed by  the  substance  of  the  universe. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

I  KNOW  quite  well  that  launching  myself  into  this 
discussion  is  a  very  dangerous  operation;  that  it  is  a 
very  large  subject,  and  one  which  is  difficult  to  deal 
with,  however  much  I  may  trespass  upon  your  patience 
in  the  time  allotted  to  me.  But  the  discussion  is  so 
fundamental,  it  is  so  completely  impossible  to  make  up 
one's  mind  on  these  matters  until  one  has  settled  the 
question,  that  I  will  even  venture  to  make  the  experi- 
ment. A  great  lawyer-statesman  and  philosopher  of  a 
former  age  —  I  mean  Francis  Bacon  —  said  that  truth 
came  out  of  error  much  more  rapidly  than  it  came  out 
of  confusion.  There  is  a  wonderful  truth  in  that  saying. 
Next  to  being  right  in  this  world,  the  best  of  all  things 
is  to  be  clearly  and  definitely  wrong,  because  you  will 
come  out  somewhere.  If  you  go  buzzing  about  between 
right  and  wrong,  vibrating  and  fluctuating,  you  come 
out  nowhere ;  but  if  you  are  absolutely  and  thoroughly 
and  persistently  wrong,  you  must,  some  of  these  days, 
have  the  extreme  good  fortune  of  knocking  your  head 
against  a  fact,  and  that  sets  you  all  straight  again.  So 
I  will  not  trouble  myself  as  to  whether  I  may  be  right  or 
wrong  in  what  I  am  about  to  say,  but  at  any  rate  I  hope 
to  be  clear  and  definite;  and  then  you  will  be  able  to 
judge  for  yourselves  whether,  in  following  out  the  train 
of  thought  I  have  to  introduce,  you  knock  your  heads 
against  facts  or  not. 


74       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

I  take  it  that  the  whole  object  of  education  is,  in  the 
first  place,  to  train  the  faculties  of  the  young  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  give  their  possessors  the  best  chance  of 
being  happy  and  useful  in  their  generation ;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  to  furnish  them  with  the  most  important 
portions  of  that  immense  capitalised  experience  of  the 
human  race  Avhich  we  call  knowledge  of  various  kinds. 
I  am  using  the  term  knowledge  in  its  widest  possible 
sense;  and  the  question  is,  what  subjects  to  select  by 
training  and  discipline,  in  which  the  object  I  have  just 
defined  may  be  best  attained. 

I  must  call  your  attention  further  to  this  fact,  that  all 
the  subjects  of  our  thoughts  —  all  feelings  and  propo- 
sitions (leaving  aside  our  sensations  as  the  mere  mate- 
rials and  occasions  of  thinking  and  feeling),  all  our 
mental  furniture  —  may  be  classified  under  one  of  two 
heads  —  as  either  within  the  province  of  the  intellect, 
something  that  can  be  put  into  propositions  and  af- 
firmed or  denied ;  or  as  within  the  province  of  feeling, 
or  that  which,  before  the  name  was  defiled,  was  called 
the  aesthetic  side  of  our  nature,  and  which  can  neither 
be  proved  nor  disproved,  but  only  felt  and  known. 

According  to  the  classification  which  I  have  put  be- 
fore you,  then,  the  subjects  of  all  knowledge  are  divisi- 
ble into  the  two  groups,  matters  of  science  and  matters 
of  art ;  for  all  things  with  which  the  reasoning  faculty 
alone  is  occupied,  come  under  the  province  of  science; 
and  in  the  broadest  sense,  and  not  in  the  narrow  and 
technical  sense  in  which  we  are  now  accustomed  to  use 
the  word  art,  all  things  feelable,  all  things  which  stir 
our  emotions,  come  under  the  term  of  art,  in  the  sense 
of  the  subject-matter  of  the  aesthetic  faculty.  So  that 
we  are  shut  up  to  this  —  that  the  business  of  education 
is,  in  the  first  place,  to  provide  the  young  with  the 


PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION     75 

means  and  the  habit  of  observation ;  and,  secondly,  to 
supply  the  subject-matter  of  knowledge  either  in  the 
shape  of  science  or  of  art,  or  of  both  combined. 

Now,  it  is  a  very  remarkable  fact  —  but  it  is  true  of 
most  things  in  this  world  —  that  there  is  hardly  any- 
thing one-sided,  or  of  one  nature;  and  it  is  not  imme- 
diately obvious  what  of  the  things  that  interest  us  may 
be  regarded  as  pure  science,  and  what  may  be  regarded 
as  pure  art.  It  may  be  that  there  are  some  peculiarly 
constituted  persons  who,  before  they  have  advanced 
far  into  the  depths  of  geometry,  find  artistic  beauty 
about  it;  but,  taking  the  generality  of  mankind,  I  think 
it  may  be  said  that,  when  they  begin  to  learn  mathe- 
matics, their  whole  souls  are  absorbed  in  tracing  the 
connection  between  the  premisses  and  the  conclusion, 
and  that  to  them  geometry  is  pure  science.  So  I  think 
it  may  be  said  that  mechanics  and  osteology  are  pure 
science.  On  the  other  hand,  melody  in  music  is  pure 
art.  You  cannot  reason  about  it ;  there  is  no  proposition 
involved  in  it.  So,  again,  in  the  pictorial  art,  an  ara- 
besque, or  a  "harmony  in  grey,"  touches  none  but  the 
aesthetic  faculty.  But  a  great  mathematician,  and  even 
many  persons  who  are  not  great  mathematicians,  will 
tell  you  that  they  derive  immense  pleasure  from  geo- 
metrical reasonings.  Everybody  knows  mathema- 
ticians speak  of  solutions  and  problems  as  "elegant," 
and  they  tell  you  that  a  certain  mass  of  mystic  symbols 
is  "beautiful,  quite  lovely."  Well,  you  do  not  see  it. 
They  do  see  it,  because  the  intellectual  process,  the 
process  of  comprehending  the  reasons  symbolised  by 
these  figures  and  these  signs,  confers  upon  them  a  sort 
of  pleasure,  such  as  an  artist  has  in  visual  symmetry. 
Take  a  science  of  which  I  may  speak  with  more  con- 
fidence, and  which  is  the  most  attractive  of  those  I  am 


76       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

concerned  with.  It  is  what  we  call  morphology,  which 
Consists  in  tracing  out  the  unity  in  variety  of  the  in- 
finitely diversified  structures  of  animals  and  plants.  I 
cannot  give  you  any  example  of  a  thorough  aesthetic 
pleasure  more  intensely  real  than  a  pleasure  of  this 
kind  —  the  pleasure  which  arises  in  one's  mind  when 
a  whole  mass  of  different  structures  run  into  one  har- 
mony as  the  expression  of  a  central  law.  That  is  where 
the  province  of  art  overlays  and  embraces  the  province 
of  intellect.  And,  if  I  may  venture  to  express  an  opinion 
on  such  a  subject,  the  great  majority  of  forms  of  art  are 
not  in  the  sense  what  I  just  now  defined  them  to  be  — 
pure  art;  but  they  derive  much  of  their  quality  from 
simultaneous  and  even  unconscious  excitement  of  the 
intellect. 

When  I  was  a  boy,  I  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  I 
am  so  now ;  and  it  so  happened  that  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  hearing  much  good  music.  Among  other 
things,  I  had  abundant  opportunities  of  hearing  that 
great  old  master,  Sebastian  Bach.  I  remember  per- 
fectly well  —  though  I  knew  nothing  about  music  then, 
and,  I  may  add,  know  nothing  whatever  about  it  now 
—  the  intense  satisfaction  and  delight  which  I  had  in 
listening,  by  the  hour  together,  to  Bach's  fugues.  It  is 
a  pleasure  which  remains  with  me,  I  am  glad  to  think; 
but,  of  late  years,  I  have  tried  to  find  out  the  why  and 
wherefore,  and  it  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  the 
pleasure  derived  from  musical  compositions  of  this  kind 
is  essentially  of  the  same  nature  as  that  which  is  derived 
from  pursuits  which  are  commonly  regarded  as  purely 
intellectual.  I  mean,  that  the  source  of  pleasure  is 
exactly  the  same  as  in  most  of  my  problems  in  morpho- 
1°&V — that  you  have  the  theme  in  one  of  the  old  mas- 
ter's works  followed  out  in  all  its  endless  variations, 


PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION     77 

always  appearing  and  always  reminding  you  of  unity 
in  variety.  So  in  painting;  what  is  called  "truth  to 
nature"  is  the  intellectual  element  coming  in,  and 
truth  to  nature  depends  entirely  upon  the  intellectual 
culture  of  the  person  to  whom  art  is  addressed.  If  you 
are  in  Australia,  you  may  get  credit  for  being  a  good 
artist  —  I  mean  among  the  natives  —  if  you  can  draw 
a  kangaroo  after  a  fashion.  But,  among  men  of  higher 
civilisation,  the  intellectual  knowledge  we  possess 
brings  its  criticism  into  our  appreciation  of  works  of 
art,  and  we  are  obliged  to  satisfy  it,  as  well  as  the  mere 
sense  of  beauty  in  colour  and  in  outline.  And  so,  the 
higher  the  culture  and  information  of  those  whom  art 
addresses,  the  more  exact  and  precise  must  be  what  we 
call  its  "truth  to  nature." 

If  we  turn  to  literature,  the  same  thing  is  true,  and 
you  find  works  of  literature  which  may  be  said  to  be 
pure  art.  A  little  song  of  Shakespeare  or  of  Goethe  is 
pure  art;  it  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  although  its  intel- 
lectual content  may  be  nothing.  A  series  of  pictures  is 
made  to  pass  before  your  mind  by  the  meaning  of  words, 
and  the  effect  is  a  melody  of  ideas.  Nevertheless,  the 
great  mass  of  the  literature  we  esteem  is  valued,  not 
merely  because  of  having  artistic  form,  but  because  of 
its  intellectual  content;  and  the  value  is  the  higher  the 
more  precise,  distinct,  and  true  is  that  intellectual  con- 
tent. And,  if  you  will  let  me  for  a  moment  speak  of  the 
very  highest  forms  of  literature,  do  we  not  regard  them 
as  highest  simply  because  the  more  we  know  the  truer 
they  seem,  and  the  more  competent  we  are  to  appre- 
ciate beauty  the  more  beautiful  they  are  ?  No  man  ever 
understands  Shakespeare  until  he  is  old,  though  the 
youngest  may  admire  him,  the  reason  being  that  he 
satisfies  the  artistic  instinct  of  the  youngest  and  har- 


78       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

monises  with  the  ripest  and  richest  experience  of  the 
oldest. 

I  have  said  this  much  to  draw  your  attention  to  what, 
in  my  mind,  lies  at  the  root  of  all  this  matter,  and  at  the 
understanding  of  one  another  by  the  men  of  science  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  men  of  literature,  and  history, 
and  art,  on  the  other.  It  is  not  a  question  whether  one 
order  of  study  or  another  should  predominate.  It  is  a 
question  of  what  topics  of  education  you  shall  select 
which  will  combine  all  the  needful  elements  in  such  due 
proportion  as  to  give  the  greatest  amount  of  food,  sup- 
port, and  encouragement  to  those  faculties  which  en- 
able us  to  appreciate  truth,  and  to  profit  by  those 
sources  of  innocent  happiness  which  are  open  to  us,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  to  avoid  that  which  is  bad,  and  coarse, 
and  ugly,  and  keep  clear  of  the  multitude  of  pitfalls 
and  dangers  which  beset  those  who  break  through  the 
natural  or  moral  laws. 

I  address  myself,  in  this  spirit,  to  the  consideration 
of  the  question  of  the  value  of  purely  literary  education. 
Is  it  good  and  sufficient,  or  is  it  insufficient  and  bad  ? 
Well,  here  I  venture  to  say  that  there  are  literary  educa- 
tions and  literary  educations.  If  I  am  to  understand  by 
that  term  the  education  that  was  current  in  the  great 
majority  of  middle-class  schools,  and  upper  schools 
too,  in  this  country  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  which  con- 
sisted absolutely  and  almost  entirely  in  keeping  boys 
for  eight  or  ten  years  at  learning  the  rules  of  Latin  and 
Greek  grammar,  construing  certain  Latin  and  Greek 
authors,  and  possibly  making  verses  which,  had  they 
been  English  verses,  would  have  been  condemned  as 
abominable  doggerel,  —  if  that  is  what  you  mean  by 
liberal  education,  then  I  say  it  is  scandalously  insuffi- 
cient and  almost  worthless.  My  reason  for  saying  so 


PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION     79 

is  not  from  the  point  of  view  of  science  at  all,  but  from 
the  point  of  view  of  literature.  I  say  the  thing  professes 
to  be  literary  education  that  is  not  a  literary  education 
at  all.  It  was  not  literature  at  all  that  was  taught,  but 
science  in  a  very  bad  form.  It  is  quite  obvious  that 
grammar  is  science  and  not  literature.  The  analysis  of 
a  text  by  the  help  of  the  rules  of  grammar  is  just  as 
much  a  scientific  operation  as  the  analysis  of  a  chemi- 
cal compound  by  the  help  of  the  rules  of  chemical  analy- 
sis. There  is  nothing  that  appeals  to  the  aesthetic  fac- 
ulty in  that  operation ;  and  I  ask  multitudes  of  men  of 
my  own  age,  who  went  through  this  process,  whether 
they  ever  had  a  conception  of  art  or  literature  until 
they  obtained  it  for  themselves  after  leaving  school? 
Then  you  may  say,  "  If  that  is  so,  if  the  education  was 
scientific,  why  cannot  you  be  satisfied  with  it  ?  "  I  say, 
because  although  it  is  a  scientific  training,  it  is  of  the 
most  inadequate  and  inappropriate  kind.  If  there  is 
any  good  at  all  in  scientific  education  it  is  that  men 
should  be  trained,  as  I  said  before,  to  know  things  for 
themselves  at  first  hand,  and  that  they  should  under- 
stand every  step  of  the  reason  of  that  which  they  do. 

I  desire  to  speak  with  the  utmost  respect  of  that 
science  —  philology  —  of  which  grammar  is  a  part 
and  parcel ;  yet  everybody  knows  that  grammar,  as  it 
is  usually  learned  at  school,  affords  no  scientific  train- 
ing. It  is  taught  just  as  you  would  teach  the  rules  of 
chess  or  draughts.  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  am  to  under- 
stand by  a  literary  education  the  study  of  the  literatures 
of  either  ancient  or  modern  nations  —  but  especially 
those  of  antiquity,  and  especially  that  of  ancient  Greece ; 
if  this  literature  is  studied,  not  merely  from  the  point  of 
view  of  philological  science,  and  its  practical  applica- 
tion to  the  inteipretation  of  texts,  but  as  an  exempli- 


80       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

fication  of  and  commentary  upon  the  principles  of  art; 
if  you  look  upon  the  literature  of  a  people  as  a  chapter 
in  the  development  of  the  human  mind,  if  you  work  out 
this  in  a  broad  spirit,  and  with  such  collateral  references 
to  morals  and  politics,  and  physical  geography,  and 
the  like  as  are  needful  to  make  you  comprehend  what 
the  meaning  of  ancient  literature  and  civilisation  is,  — 
then,  assuredly,  it  affords  a  splendid  and  noble  educa- 
tion. But  I  still  think  it  is  susceptible  of  improvement, 
and  that  no  man  will  ever  comprehend  the  real  secret 
of  the  difference  between  the  ancient  world  and  our 
present  time,  unless  he  has  learned  to  see  the  difference 
which  the  late  development  of  physical  science  has 
made  between  the  thought  of  this  day  and  the  thought 
of  that,  and  he  will  never  see  that  difference,  unless  he 
has  some  practical  insight  into  some  branches  of  physi- 
cal science ;  and  you  must  remember  that  a  literary  ed- 
ucation such  as  that  which  I  have  just  referred  to,  is  out 
of  the  reach  of  those  whose  school  life  is  cut  short  at 
sixteen  or  seventeen. 

But,  you  will  say,  all  this  is  fault-finding;  let  us  hear 
what  you  have  in  the  way  of  positive  suggestion.  Then 
I  am  bound  to  tell  you  that,  if  I  could  make  a  clean 
sweep  of  everything  —  I  am  very  glad  I  cannot  because 
I  might,  and  probably  should,  make  mistakes,  —  but 
if  I  could  make  a  clean  sweep  of  everything  and  start 
afresh,  I  should,  in  the  first  place,  secure  that  training 
of  the  young  in  reading  and  writing,  and  in  the  habit 
of  attention  and  observation,  both  to  that  which  is  told 
them,  and  that  which  they  see,  which  everybody  agrees 
to.  But  in  addition  to  that,  I  should  make  it  absolutely 
necessary  for  everybody,  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period, 
to  learn  to  draw.  Now,  you  may  say,  there  are  some 
people  who  cannot  draw,  however  much  they  may  be 


PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION     81 

taught.  I  deny  that  in  toto,  because  I  never  yet  met 
with  anybody  who  could  not  learn  to  write.  Writing 
is  a  form  of  drawing;  therefore  if  you  give  the  same 
attention  and  trouble  to  drawing  as  you  do  to  writing, 
depend  upon  it,  there  is  nobody  who  cannot  be  made 
to  draw,  more  or  less  well.  Do  not  misapprehend  me. 
I  do  not  say  for  one  moment  you  would  make  an  artistic 
draughtsman.  Artists  are  not  made;  they  grow.  You 
may  improve  the  natural  faculty  in  that  direction,  but 
you  cannot  make  it ;  but  you  can  teach  simple  drawing, 
and  you  will  find  it  an  implement  of  learning  of  ex- 
treme value.  I  do  not  think  its  value  can  be  exagger- 
ated, because  it  gives  you  the  means  of  training  the 
young  in  attention  and  accuracy,  which  are  the  two 
things  in  which  all  mankind  are  more  deficient  than 
in  any  other  mental  quality  whatever.  The  whole  of 
my  life  has  been  spent  in  trying  to  give  my  proper  at- 
tention to  things  and  to  be  accurate,  and  I  have  not 
succeeded  as  well  as  I  could  wish ;  and  other  people,  I 
am  afraid,  are  not  much  more  fortunate.  You  cannot 
begin  this  habit  too  early,  and  I  consider  there  is  no- 
thing of  so  great  a  value  as  the  habit  of  drawing,  to 
secure  those  two  desirable  ends. 

Then  we  come  to  the  subject-matter,  whether  scien- 
tific or  aesthetic,  of  education,  and  I  should  naturally 
have  no  question  at  all  about  teaching  the  elements 
of  physical  science  of  the  kind  I  have  sketched,  in  a 
practical  manner;  but  among  scientific  topics,  using 
the  word  scientific  in  the  broadest  sense,  I  would  also 
include  the  elements  of  the  theory  of  morals  and  of  that 
of  political  and  social  life,  which,  strangely  enough,  it 
never  seems  to  occur  to  anybody  to  teach  a  child.  I 
would  have  the  history  of  our  own  country,  and  of  all 
the  influences  which  have  been  brought  to  bear  upon  it, 


82       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

with  incidental  geography,  not  as  a  mere  chronicle  of 
reigns  and  battles,  but  as  a  chapter  in  the  development 
of  the  race,  and  the  history  of  civilisation. 

Then  with  respect  to  aesthetic  knowledge  and  disci- 
pline, we  have  happily  in  the  English  language  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  storehouses  of  artistic  beauty  and 
of  models  of  literary  excellence  which  exists  in  the 
world  at  the  present  time.  I  have  said  before,  and  I 
repeat  it  here,  that  if  a  man  cannot  get  literary  culture 
of  the  highest  kind  out  of  his  Bible,  and  Chaucer,  and 
Shakespeare,  and  Milton,  and  Hobbes,  and  Bishop 
Berkeley,  to  mention  only  a  few  of  our  illustrious 
writers  —  I  say,  if  he  cannot  get  it  out  of  those  writers 
he  cannot  get  it  out  of  anything;  and  I  would  assuredly 
devote  a  very  large  portion  of  the  time  of  every  English 
child  to  the  careful  study  of  the  models  of  English  writ- 
ing of  such  varied  and  wonderful  kind  as  we  possess, 
and,  what  is  still  more  important  and  still  more  neg- 
lected, the  habit  of  using  that  language  with  precision, 
with  force,  and  with  art.  I  fancy  we  are  almost  the  only 
nation  in  the  world  who  seem  to  think  that  composition 
comes  by  nature.  The  French  attend  to  their  own 
language,  the  Germans  study  theirs;  but  Englishmen 
do  not  seem  to  think  it  is  worth  their  while.  Nor  would 
I  fail  to  include,  in  the  course  of  study  I  am  sketch- 
ing, translations  of  all  the  best  works  of  antiquity,  or  of 
the  modern  world.  It  is  a  very  desirable  thing  to  read 
Homer  in  Greek;  but  if  you  don't  happen  to  know 
Greek,  the  next  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  read  as  good 
a  translation  of  it  as  we  have  recently  been  furnished 
with  in  prose.  You  won't  get  all  you  would  get  from  the 
original,  but  you  may  get  a  great  deal ;  and  to  refuse  to 
know  this  great  deal  because  you  cannot  get  all,  seems 
to  be  as  sensible  as  for  a  hungry  man  to  refuse  bread 


PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION     83 

because  he  cannot  get  partridge.  Finally,  I  would  add 
instruction  in  either  music  or  painting,  or,  if  the  child 
should  be  so  unhappy,  as  sometimes  happens,  as  to 
have  no  faculty  for  either  of  those,  and  no  possibility 
of  doing  anything  in  any  artistic  sense  with  them,  then 
I  would  see  what  could  be  done  with  literature  alone ; 
but  I  would  provide,  in  the  fullest  sense,  for  the  devel- 
opment of  the  aesthetic  side  of  the  mind.  In  my  judg- 
ment, those  are  all  the  essentials  of  education  for  an 
English  child.  With  that  outfit,  such  as  it  might  be 
made  in  the  time  given  to  education  which  is  within 
the  reach  of  nine-tenths  of  the  population  —  with  that 
outfit,  an  Englishman,  within  the  limits  of  English  life, 
is  fitted  to  go  anywhere,  to  occupy  the  highest  posi- 
tions, to  fill  the  highest  offices  of  the  State,  and  to  be- 
come distinguished  in  practical  pursuits,  in  science,  or 
in  art.  For,  if  he  have  the  opportunity  to  learn  all  those 
things,  and  have  his  mind  disciplined  in  the  various 
directions  the  teaching  of  those  topics  would  have  ne- 
cessitated, then,  assuredly,  he  will  be  able  to  pick  up,  on 
his  road  through  life,  all  the  rest  of  the  intellectual  bag- 
gage he  wants. 

If  the  educational  time  at  our  disposition  were  suffi- 
cient, there  are  one  or  two  things  I  would  add  to  those 
I  have  just  now  called  the  essentials ;  and  perhaps  you 
will  be  surprised  to  hear,  though  I  hope  you  will  not, 
that  I  should  add,  not  more  science,  but  one,  or,  if  pos- 
sible, two  languages.  The  knowledge  of  some  other 
language  than  one's  own  is,  in  fact,  of  singular  intellec- 
tual value.  Many  of  the  faults  and  mistakes  of  the 
ancient  philosophers  are  traceable  to  the  fact  that  they 
knew  no  language  but  their  own,  and  were  often  led 
into  confusing  the  symbol  with  the  thought  which  it 
embodied.  I  think  it  is  Locke  who  says  that  one-half 


84       PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

of  the  mistakes  of  philosophers  have  arisen  from  ques- 
tions about  words ;  and  one  of  the  safest  ways  of  deliver- 
ing yourself  from  the  bondage  of  words  is,  to  know  how 
ideas  look  in  words  to  which  you  are  not  accustomed. 
That  is  one  reason  for  the  study  of  language;  another 
reason  is,  that  it  opens  new  fields  in  art  and  in  science. 
Another  is  the  practical  value  of  such  knowledge ;  and 
yet  another  is  this,  that  if  your  languages  are  properly 
chosen,  from  the  time  of  learning  the  additional  lan- 
guages you  will  know  your  own  language  better  than 
ever  you  did.  So,  I  say,  if  the  time  given  to  education 
permits,  add  Latin  and  German.  Latin,  because  it 
is  the  key  to  nearly  one-half  of  English  and  to  all  the 
Romance  languages;  and  German,  because  it  is  the  key 
to  almost  all  the  remainder  of  English,  and  helps  you 
to  understand  a  race  from  whom  most  of  us  have 
sprung,  and  who  have  a  character  and  a  literature  of  a 
fateful  force  in  the  history  of  the  world,  such  as  prob- 
ably has  been  allotted  to  those  of  no  other  people, 
except  the  Jews,  the  Greeks,  and  ourselves.  Beyond 
these,  the  essential  and  the  eminently  desirable  ele- 
ments of  all  education,  let  each  man  take  up  his  special 
line  —  the  historian  devote  himself  to  his  history,  the 
man  of  science  to  his  science,  the  man  of  letters  to  his 
culture  of  that  kind,  and  the  artist  to  his  special  pursuit. 

Bacon  has  prefaced  some  of  his  works  with  no  more 
than  this :  Franciscus  Bacon  sic  cogitavit ;  let  "  sic  cogi- 
tavi"  be  the  epilogue  to  what  I  have  ventured  to  ad- 
dress to  you  to-night. 


THE  METHOD  OF  SCIENTIFIC 
INVESTIGATION 

THE  method  of  scientific  investigation  is  nothing 
but  the  expression  of  the  necessary  mode  of  working 
of  the  human  mind.  It  is  simply  the  mode  at  which  all 
phenomena  are  reasoned  about,  rendered  precise  and 
exact.  There  is  no  more  difference,  but  there  is  just  the 
same  kind  of  difference,  between  the  mental  opera- 
tions of  a  man  of  science  and  those  of  an  ordinary  per- 
son, as  there  is  between  the  operations  and  methods  of 
a  baker  or  of  a  butcher  weighing  out  his  goods  in  com- 
mon scales,  and  the  operations  of  a  chemist  in  perform- 
ing a  difficult  and  complex  analysis  by  means  of  his 
balance  and  finely  graduated  weights.  It  is  not  that 
the  action  of  the  scales  in  the  one  case,  and  the  balance 
in  the  other,  differ  in  the  principles  of  their  construction 
or  manner  of  working ;  but  the  beam  of  one  is  set  on  an 
infinitely  finer  axis* than  the  other,  and  of  course  turns 
by  the  addition  of  a  much  smaller  weight. 

You  will  understand  this  better,  perhaps,  if  I  give 
you  some  familiar  example.  You  have  all  heard  it  re- 
peated, I  dare  say,  that  men  of  science  work  by  means 
of  induction  and  deduction,  and  that  by  the  help  of 
these  operations,  they,  in  a  sort  of  sense,  wring  from 
Nature  certain  other  things,  which  are  called  natural 
laws,  and  causes,  and  that  out  of  these,  by  some  cunning 
skill  of  their  own,  they  build  up  hypotheses  and  theories. 
And  it  is  imagined  by  many,  that  the  operations  of  the 
common  mind  can  be  by  no  means  compared  with 
these  processes,  and  ihat  they  have  to  be  acquired  by  a 


86  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION 

sort  of  special  apprenticeship  to  the  craft.  To  hear  all 
these  large  words,  you  would  think  that  the  mind  of  a 
man  of  science  must  be  constituted  differently  from  that 
of  his  fellow  men ;  but  if  you  will  not  be  frightened  by 
terms,  you  will  discover  that  you  are  quite  wrong,  and 
that  all  these  terrible  apparatus  are  being  used  by  your- 
selves every  day  and  every  hour  of  your  lives. 

There  is  a  well-known  incident  in  one  of  Moliere's 
plays,  where  the  author  makes  the  hero  express  un- 
bounded delight  on  being  told  that  he  had  been  talking 
prose  during  the  whole  of  his  life.  In  the  same  way,  I 
trust,  that  you  will  take  comfort,  and  be  delighted  with 
yourselves,  on  the  discovery  that  you  have  been  acting 
on  the  principles  of  inductive  and  deductive  philosophy 
during  the  same  period.  Probably  there  is  not  one  here 
who  has  not  in  the  course  of  the  day  had  occasion  to  set 
in  motion  a  complex  train  of  reasoning,  of  the  very 
same  kind,  though  differing  of  course  in  degree,  as  that 
which  a  scientific  man  goes  through  in  tracing  the 
causes  of  natural  phenomena. 

A  very  trivial  circumstance  will  serve  to  exemplify 
this.  Suppose  you  go  into  a  fruiterer's  shop,  wanting 
an  apple,  —  you  take  up  one,  and,  on  biting  it,  you 
find  it  is  sour;  you  look  at  it,  and  see  that  it  is  hard  and 
green.  You  take  up  another  one,  and  that  too  is  hard, 
green,  and  sour.  The  shopman  offers  you  a  third;  but, 
before  biting  it,  you  examine  it,  and  find  that  it  is  hard 
and  green,  and  you  immediately  say  that  you  will  not 
have  it,  as  it  must  be  sour,  like  those  that  you  have 
already  tried. 

Nothing  can  be  more  simple  than  that,  you  think; 
but  if  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  analyse  and  trace  out 
into  its  logical  elements  what  has  been  done  by  the 
mind,  you  will  be  greatly  surprised.  In  the  first  place 


SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION  87 

you  have  performed  the  operation  of  induction.  You 
found  that,  in  two  experiences,  hardness  and  greenness 
in  apples  went  together  with  sourness.  It  was  so  in  the 
first  case,  and  it  was  confirmed  by  the  second.  True,  it 
is  a  very  small  basis,  but  still  it  is  enough  to  make  an 
induction  from;  you  generalise  the  facts,  and  you  ex- 
pect to  find  sourness  in  apples  where  you  get  hardness 
and  greenness.  You  found  upon  that  a  general  law 
that  all  hard  and  green  apples  are  sour;  and  that,  so 
far  as  it  goes,  is  a  perfect  induction.  Well,  having  got 
your  natural  law  in  this  way,  when  you  are  offered  an- 
other apple  which  you  find  is  hard  and  green,  you  say, 
"All  hard  and  green  apples  are  sour;  this  apple  is  hard 
and  green,  therefore  this  apple  is  sour."  That  train  of 
reasoning  is  what  logicians  call  a  syllogism,  and  has  all 
its  various  parts  and  terms,  —  its  major  premiss,  its 
minor  premiss  and  its  conclusion.  And,  by  the  help  of 
further  reasoning,  which,  if  drawn  out,  would  have  to 
be  exhibited  in  two  or  three  other  syllogisms,  you  arrive 
at  your  final  determination,  "I  will  not  have  that  ap- 
ple." So  that,  you  see,  you  have,  in  the  first  place, 
established  a  law  by  induction,  and  upon  that  you 
have  founded  a  deduction,  and  reasoned  out  the  special 
particular  case.  Well  now,  suppose,  having  got  your 
conclusion  of  the  law,  that  at  some  time  afterwards, 
you  are  discussing  the  qualities  of  apples  with  a  friend  : 
you  will  say  to  him,  "  It  is  a  very  curious  thing,  —  but 
I  find  that  all  hard  and  green  apples  are  sour ! "  Your 
friend  says  to  you,  "  But  how  do  you  know  that  ?"  You 
at  once  reply,  "Oh,  because  I  have  tried  them  over 
and  over  again,  and  have  always  found  them  to  be 
so."  Well,  if  we  were  talking  science  instead  of  com- 
mon sense,  we  should  call  that  an  experimental  verifi- 
cation. And,  if  still  opposed,  you  go  further,  and  say, 


88  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION 

"  I  have  heard  from  the  people  in  Somersetshire  and 
Devonshire,  where  a  large  number  of  apples  are 
grown,  that  they  have  observed  the  same  thing.  It  is 
also  found  to  be  the  case  in  Normandy,  and  in  North 
America.  In  short,  I  find  it  to  be  the  universal  experi- 
ence of  mankind  wherever  attention  has  been  directed 
to  the  subject."  Whereupon,  your  friend,  unless  he  is 
a  very  unreasonable  man,  agrees  with  you,  and  is  con- 
vinced that  you  are  quite  right  in  the  conclusion  you 
have  drawn.  He  believes,  although  perhaps  he  does 
not  know  he  believes  it,  that  the  more  extensive  veri- 
fications are,  —  that  the  more  frequently  experiments 
have  been  made,  and  results  of  the  same  kind  arrived 
at,  —  that  the  more  varied  the  conditions  under  which 
the  same  results  are  attained,  the  more  certain  is  the 
ultimate  conclusion,  and  he  disputes  the  question  no 
further.  He  sees  that  the  experiment  has  been  tried 
under  all  sorts  of  conditions,  as  to  time,  place,  and 
people,  with  the  same  result;  and  he  says  with  you, 
therefore,  that  the  law  you  have  laid  down  must  be  a 
good  one,  and  he  must  believe  it. 

In  science  we  do  the  same  thing ;  —  the  philosopher 
exercises  precisely  the  same  faculties,  though  in  a  much 
more  delicate  manner.  In  scientific  inquiry  it  becomes 
a  matter  of  duty  to  expose  a  supposed  law  to  every  pos- 
sible kind  of  verification,  and  to  take  care,  moreover, 
that  this  is  done  intentionally,  and  not  left  to  a  mere 
accident,  as  in  the  case  of  the  apples.  And  in  science, 
as  in  common  life,  our  confidence  in  a  law  is  in  exact 
proportion  to  the  absence  of  variation  in  the  result  of 
our  experimental  verifications.  For  instance,  if  you  let 
go  your  grasp  of  an  article  you  may  have  in  your  hand, 
it  will  immediately  fall  to  the  ground.  That  is  a  very 
common  verification  of  one  of  the  best  established  laws 


SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION  89 

of  nature  —  that  of  gravitation.  The  method  by  which 
men  of  science  establish  the  existence  of  that  law  is  ex- 
actly the  same  as  that  by  which  we  have  established  the 
trivial  proposition  about  the  sourness  of  hard  and  green 
apples.  But  we  believe  it  in  such  an  extensive,  thor- 
ough, and  unhesitating  manner  because  the  universal 
experience  of  mankind  verifies  it,  and  we  can  verify  it 
ourselves  at  any  time ;  and  that  is  the  strongest  possible 
foundation  on  which  any  natural  law  can  rest. 

So  much,  then,  by  way  of  proof  that  the  method  of 
establishing  laws  in  science  is  exactly  the  same  as  that 
pursued  in  common  life.  Let  us  now  turn  to  another 
matter  (though  really  it  is  but  another  phase  of  the 
same  question),  and  that  is,  the  method  by  which, 
from  the  relations  of  certain  phenomena,  we  prove  that 
some  stand  in  the  position  of  causes  towards  the  others. 

I  want  to  put  the  case  clearly  before  you,  and  I  will 
therefore  show  you  what  I  mean  by  another  familiar 
example.  I  will  suppose  that  one  of  you,  on  coming 
down  in  the  morning  to  the  parlor  of  your  house,  finds 
that  a  tea-pot  and  some  spoons  which  had  been  left  in 
the  room  on  the  previous  evening  are  gone,  —  the  win- 
dow is  open,  and  you  observe  the  mark  of  a  dirty  hand 
on  the  window-frame,  and  perhaps,  in  addition  to  that, 
you  notice  the  impress  of  a  hob-nailed  shoe  on  the 
gravel  outside.  All  these  phenomena  have  struck  your 
attention  instantly,  and  before  two  seconds  have  passed 
you  say,  "  Oh,  somebody  has  broken  open  the  window, 
entered  the  room,  and  run  off  with  the  spoons  and  the 
tea-pot ! "  That  speech  is  out  of  your  mouth  in  a  mo- 
ment. And  you  will  probably  add,  "  I  know  there  has; 
I  am  quite  sure  of  it ! "  You  mean  to  say  exactly  what 
you  know;  but  in  reality  you  are  giving  expression  to 
what  is,  in  all  essential  particulars,  an  hypothesis.  You 


90  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION 

do  not  know  it  at  all ;  it  is  nothing  but  an  hypothesis 
rapidly  framed  in  your  own  mind.  And  it  is  an  hypo- 
thesis founded  on  a  long  train  of  inductions  and  de- 
ductions. 

What  are  those  inductions  and  deductions,  and  how 
have  you  got  at  this  hypothesis  ?  You  have  observed 
in  the  first  place,  that  the  window  is  open ;  but  by  a  train 
of  reasoning  involving  many  inductions  and  deductions, 
you  have  probably  arrived  long  before  at  the  general 
law  —  and  a  very  good  one  it  is  —  that  windows  do  not 
open  of  themselves;  and  you  therefore  conclude  that 
something  has  opened  the  window.  A  second  general 
law  that  you  have  arrived  at  in  the  same  way  is,  that 
tea-pots  and  spoons  do  not  go  out  of  a  window  spon- 
taneously, and  you  are  satisfied  that,  as  they  are  not 
now  where  you  left  them,  they  have  been  removed.  In 
the  third  place,  you  look  at  the  marks  on  the  window- 
sill,  and  the  shoe-marks  outside,  and  you  say  that  in  all 
previous  experience  the  former  kind  of  mark  has  never 
been  produced  by  anything  else  but  the  hand  of  a 
human  being;  and  the  same  experience  shows  that  no 
other  animal  but  man  at  present  wears  shoes  with  hob- 
nails in  them  such  as  would  produce  the  marks  in  the 
gravel.  I  do  not  know,  even  if  we  could  discover  any 
of  those  "missing  links"  that  are  talked  about,  that 
they  would  help  us  to  any  other  conclusion !  At  any 
rate  the  law  which  states  our  present  experience  is 
strong  enough  for  my  present  purpose.  You  next  reach 
the  conclusion  that,  as  these  kind  of  marks  have  not 
been  left  by  any  other  animal  than  man,  or  are  liable 
to  be  formed  in  any  other  way  than  a  man's  hand  and 
shoe,  the  marks  in  question  have  been  formed  by  a 
man  in  that  way.  You  have,  further,  a  general  law, 
founded  on  observation  and  experience,  and  that,  toos 


SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION  91 

is,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  a  very  universal  and  unimpeacha- 
ble one,  —  that  some  men  are  thieves ;  and  you  assume 
at  once  from  all  these  premisses  —  and  that  is  what 
constitutes  your  hypothesis  —  that  the  man  who  made 
the  marks  outside  and  on  the  window-sill,  opened  the 
window,  got  into  the  room,  and  stole  your  tea-pot  and 
spoons.  You  have  now  arrived  at  a  vera  causa  ;  —  you 
have  assumed  a  cause  which,  it  is  plain,  is  competent 
to  produce  all  the  phenomena  you  have  observed. 
You  can  explain  all  these  phenomena  only  by  the  hy- 
pothesis of  a  thief.  But  that  is  a  hypothetical  conclu- 
sion, of  the  justice  of  which  you  have  no  absolute  proof 
at  all;  it  is  only  rendered  highly  probable  by  a  series 
of  inductive  and  deductive  reasonings. 

I  suppose  your  first  action,  assuming  that  you  are  a 
man  of  ordinary  common  sense,  and  that  you  have  es- 
tablished this  hypothesis  to  your  own  satisfaction,  will 
very  likely  be  to  go  off  for  the  police,  and  set  them  on 
the  track  of  the  burglar,  with  the  view  to  the  recovery 
of  your  property.  But  just  as  you  are  starting  with  this 
object,  some  person  comes  in,  and  on  learning  what 
you  are  about,  says,  "  My  good  friend,  you  are  going  on 
a  great  deal  too  fast.  How  do  you  know  that  the  man 
who  really  made  the  marks  took  the  spoons  ?  It  might 
have  been  a  monkey  that  took  them,  and  the  man  may 
have  merely  looked  in  afterwards."  You  would  prob- 
ably reply,  "Well,  that  is  all  very  well,  but  you  see  it 
is  contrary  to  all  experience  of  the  way  tea-pots  and 
spoons  are  abstracted ;  so  that,  at  any  rate,  your  hypo- 
thesis is  less  probable  than  mine."  While  you  are  talk- 
ing the  thing  over  in  this  way,  another  friend  arrives, 
one  of  the  good  kind  of  people  that  I  was  talking  of  a 
little  while  ago.  And  he  might  say,  "  Oh,  my  dear  sir, 
you  are  certainly  going  on  a  great  deal  too  fast.  You 


92  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION 

are  most  presumptuous.  You  admit  that  all  these  oc- 
currences took  place  when  you  were  fast  asleep,  at  a 
time  when  you  could  not  possibly  have  known  anything 
about  what  was  taking  place.  How  do  you  know  that 
the  laws  of  Nature  are  not  suspended  during  the  night  ? 
It  may  be  that  there  has  been  some  kind  of  super- 
natural interference  in  this  case."  In  point  of  fact,  he 
declares  that  your  hypothesis  is  one  of  which  you  cannot 
at  all  demonstrate  the  truth,  and  that  you  are  by  no 
means  sure  that  the  laws  of  Nature  are  the  same  when 
you  are  asleep  as  when  you  are  awake. 

Well,  now,  you  cannot  at  the  moment  answer  that 
kind  of  reasoning.  You  feel  that  your  worthy  friend 
has  you  somewhat  at  a  disadvantage.  You  will  feel 
perfectly  convinced  in  your  own  mind,  however,  that 
you  are  quite  right,  and  you  say  to  him,  "My  good 
friend,  I  can  only  be  guided  by  the  natural  probabilities 
of  the  case,  and  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  stand 
aside  and  permit  me  to  pass,  I  will  go  and  fetch  the 
police."  Well,  we  will  suppose  that  your  journey  is 
successful,  and  that  by  good  luck  you  meet  with  a 
policeman;  that  eventually  the  burglar  is  found  with 
your  property  on  his  person,  and  the  marks  correspond 
to  his  hand  and  to  his  boots.  Probably  any  jury  would 
consider  those  facts  a  very  good  experimental  verifica- 
tion of  your  hypothesis,  touching  the  cause  of  the  ab- 
normal phenomena  observed  in  your  parlor,  and  would 
act  accordingly. 

Now,  in  this  supposititious  case,  I  have  taken  phe- 
nomena of  a  very  common  kind,  in  order  that  you 
might  see  what  are  the  different  steps  in  an  ordinary 
process  of  reasoning,  if  you  will  only  take  the  trouble  to 
analyse  it  carefully.  All  the  operations  I  have  described, 
you  will  see,  are  involved  in  the  mind  of  any  man  of 


SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION  93 

sense  in  leading  him  to  a  conclusion  as  to  the  course  he 
should  take  in  order  to  make  good  a  robbery  and  punish 
the  offender.  I  say  that  you  are  led,  in  that  case,  to  your 
conclusion  by  exactly  the  same  train  of  reasoning  as 
that  which  a  man  of  science  pursues  when  he  is  en- 
deavouring to  discover  the  origin  and  laws  of  the  most 
occult  phenomena.  The  process  is,  and  always  must 
be,  the  same ;  and  precisely  the  same  mode  of  reasoning 
was  employed  by  Newton  and  Laplace  in  their  en- 
deavours to  discover  and  define  the  causes  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  heavenly  bodies,  as  you,  with  your  own 
common  sense,  would  employ  to  detect  a  burglar.  The 
only  difference  is,  that  the  nature  of  the  inquiry  being 
more  abstruse,  every  step  has  to  be  most  carefully 
watched,  so  that  there  may  not  be  a  single  crack  or  flaw 
in  your  hypothesis.  A  flaw  or  crack  in  many  of  the 
hypotheses  of  daily  life  may  be  of  little  or  no  moment 
as  affecting  the  general  correctness  of  the  conclusions 
at  which  we  may  arrive;  but,  in  a  scientific  inquiry,  a 
fallacy,  great  or  small,  is  always  of  importance,  and  is 
sure  to  be  in  the  long  run  constantly  productive  of 
mischievous  if  not  fatal  results. 

Do  not  allow  yourselves  to  be  misled  by  the  common 
notion  that  an  hypothesis  is  untrustworthy  simply  be- 
cause it  is  an  hypothesis.  It  is  often  urged,  in  respect 
to  some  scientific  conclusion,  that,  after  all,  it  is  only  an 
hypothesis.  But  what  more  have  we  to  guide  us  in  nine- 
tenths  of  the  most  important  affairs  of  daily  life  than 
hypotheses,  and  often  very  ill-based  ones  ?  So  that  in 
science,  where  the  evidence  of  an  hypothesis  is  sub- 
jected to  the  most  rigid  examination,  we  may  rightlj 
pursue  the  same  course.  You  may  have  hypotheses, 
and  hypotheses.  A  man  may  say,  if  he  likes,  that  the 
moon  is  made  of  green  cheese :  that  is  an  hypothesis. 


94  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION 

But  another  man,  who  has  devoted  a  great  deal  of  time 
and  attention  to  the  subject,  and  availed  himself  of  the 
most  powerful  telescopes  and  the  results  of  the  observa- 
tions of  others,  declares  that  in  his  opinion  it  is  probably 
composed  of  materials  very  simitar  to  those  of  which 
our  own  earth  is  made  up :  and  that  is  also  only  an  hy- 
pothesis. But  I  need  not  tell  you  that  there  is  an  enor- 
mous difference  in  the  value  of  the  two  hypotheses. 
That  one  which  is  based  on  sound  scientific  knowledge 
is  sure  to  have  a  corresponding  value ;  and  that  which 
is  a  mere  hasty  random  guess  is  likely  to  have  but  little 
value.  Every  great  step  in  our  progress  in  discovering 
causes  has  been  made  in  exactly  the  same  way  as  that 
which  I  have  detailed  to  you.  A  person  observing  the 
occurrence  of  certain  facts  and  phenomena  asks,  nat- 
urally enough,  what  process,  what  kind  of  operation 
known  to  occur  in  Nature  applied  to  the  particular 
case,  will  unravel  and  explain  the  mystery  ?  Hence  you 
have  the  scientific  hypothesis ;  and  its  value  will  be  pro- 
portionate to  the  care  and  completeness  with  which  its 
basis  had  been  tested  and  verified.  It  is  in  these  matters 
as  in  the  commonest  affairs  of  practical  life :  the  guess  of 
the  fool  will  be  folly,  while  the  guess  of  the  wise  man 
will  contain  wisdom.  In  all  cases,  you  see  that  the  value 
of  the  result  depends  on  the  patience  and  faithfulness 
with  which  the  investigator  applies  to  his  hypothesis 
every  possible  kind  of  verification. 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

IN  order  to  make  the  title  of  this  discourse  generally 
intelligible,  I  have  translated  the  term  "Protoplasm," 
which  is  the  scientific  name  of  the  substance  of  which 
I  am  about  to  speak,  by  the  words  "  the  physical  basis 
of  life."  I  suppose  that,  to  many,  the  idea  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  a  physical  basis,  or  matter,  of  life  may 
be  novel  —  so  widely  spread  is  the  conception  of  life  as 
a  something  which  works  through  matter,  but  is  in- 
dependent of  it;  and  even  those  who  are  aware  that 
matter  and  life  are  inseparably  connected,  may  not 
be  prepared  for  the  conclusion  plainly  suggested  by 
the  phrase,  "  the  physical  basis  or  matter  of  life,"  that 
there  is  some  one  kind  of  matter  which  is  common  to 
all  living  beings,  and  that  their  endless  diversities  are 
bound  together  by  a  physical,  as  well  as  an  ideal, 
unity.  In  fact,  when  first  apprehended,  such  a  doc- 
trine as  this  appears  almost  shocking  to  common 
sense. 

What,  truly,  can  seem  to  be  more  obviously  different 
from  one  another,  in  faculty,  in  form,  and  in  substance, 
than  the  various  kinds  of  living  beings?  What  com- 
munity of  faculty  can  there  be  between  the  bright- 
coloured  lichen,  which  so  nearly  resembles  a  mere 
mineral  incrustation  of  the  bare  rock  on  which  it  grows, 
and  the  painter,  to  whom  it  is  instinct  with  beauty,  or 
the  botanist,  whom  it  feeds  with  knowledge? 

Again,  think  of  the  microscopic  fungus  —  a  mere 
infinitesimal  ovoid  particle,  which  finds  space  and  du- 
ration enough  to  multiply  into  countless  millions  in  the 


96         ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

body  of  a  living  fly ;  and  then  of  the  wealth  of  foliage, 
the  luxuriance  of  flower  and  fruit,  which  lies  between 
this  bald  sketch  of  a  plant  and  the  giant  pine  of  Califor- 
nia, towering  to  the  dimensions  of  a  cathedral  spire,  or 
the  Indian  fig,  which  covers  acres  with  its  profound 
shadow,  and  endures  while  nations  and  empires  come 
and  go  around  its  vast  circumference.  Or,  turning  to 
the  other  half  of  the  world  of  life,  picture  to  yourselves 
the  great  Finner  whale,  hugest  of  beasts  that  live,  or 
have  lived,  disporting  his  eighty  or  ninety  feet  of  bone, 
muscle  and  blubber,  with  easy  roll,  among  waves  in 
which  the  stoutest  ship  that  ever  left  dockyard  would 
flounder  hopelessly;  and  contrast  him  with  the  invisi- 
ble animalcules  —  mere  gelatinous  specks,  multitudes 
of  which  could,  in  fact,  dance  upon  the  point  of  a 
needle  with  the  same  ease  as  the  angels  of  the  School- 
men could,  in  imagination.  With  these  images  before 
your  minds,  you  may  well  ask,  what  community  of  form, 
or  structure,  is  there  between  the  animalcule  and  the 
whale;  or  between  the  fungus  and  the  fig-tree  ?  And,  a 
fortiori,  between  all  four  ? 

Finally,  if  we  regard  substance,  or  material  composi- 
tion, what  hidden  bond  can  connect  the  flower  which 
a  girl  wears  in  her  hair  and  the  blood  which  courses 
through  her  youthful  veins ;  or,  what  is  there  in  com- 
mon between  the  dense  and  resisting  mass  of  the  oak, 
or  the  strong  fabric  of  the  tortoise,  and  those  broad 
disks  of  glassy  jelly  which  may  be  seen  pulsating 
through  the  waters  of  a  calm  sea,  but  which  drain  away 
to  mere  films  in  the  hand  which  raises  them  out  of  their 
element  ? 

Such  objections  as  these  must,  I  think,  arise  in  the 
mind  of  every  one  who  ponders,  for  the  first  time,  upon 
the  conception  of  a  single  physical  basis  of  life  under- 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE         97 

lying  all  the  diversities  of  vital  existence ;  but  I  propose 
to  demonstrate  to  you  that,  notwithstanding  these  ap- 
parent difficulties,  a  threefold  unity  —  namely,  a  unitv 
of  power  or  faculty,  a  unity  of  form,  and  a  unity  of 
substantial  composition  —  does  pervade  the  whole  liv- 
ing world. 

No  very  abstruse  argumentation  is  needed,  in  the 
first  place  to  prove  that  the  powers,  or  faculties,  of  all 
kinds  of  living  matter,  diverse  as  they  may  be  in  degree, 
are  substantially  similar  in  kind. 

Goethe  has  condensed  a  survey  of  all  powers  of  man- 
kind into  the  well-known  epigram :  — 

"Warum  treibt  sich  das  Volk  so  und  schreit?  Es  will  sich  ernahren 
Kinder  zeugen,  und  die  nahren  so  gut  es  vermag. 

Weiter  bringt  es  kein  Mensch,  stell'  er  sich  wie  er  auch  will." 

In  physiological  language  this  means,  that  all  the 
multifarious  and  complicated  activities  of  man  are 
comprehensible  under  three  categories.  Either  they  are 
immediately  directed  towards  the  maintenance  and 
development  of  the  body,  or  they  effect  transitory 
changes  in  the  relative  positions  of  parts  of  the  body, 
or  they  tend  towards  the  continuance  of  the  species. 
Even  those  manifestations  of  intellect,  of  feeling,  and 
of  will,  which  we  rightly  name  the  higher  faculties,  are 
not  excluded  from  this  classification,  inasmuch  as  to 
every  one  but  the  subject  of  them,  they  are  known  only 
as  transitory  changes  in  the  relative  positions  of  parts 
of  the  body.  Speech,  gesture,  and  every  other  form  of 
human  action  are,  in  the  long  run,  resolvable  into  mus- 
cular contraction,  and  muscular  contraction  is  but  a 
transitory  change  in  the  relative  positions  of  the  parts 
of  a  muscle.  But  the  scheme  which  is  large  enough  to 


98         ON  THE  PHYSICAL   BASIS  OF  LIFE 

embrace  the  activities  of  the  highest  form  of  life,  covers 
all  those  of  the  lower  creatures.  The  lowest  plant,  or 
animalcule,  feeds,  grows,  and  reproduces  its  kind.  In 
addition,  all  animals  manifest  those  transitory  changes 
of  form  which  we  class  under  irritability  and  contractil- 
ity; and,  it  is  more  than  probable,  that  when  the  vege- 
table world  is  thoroughly  explored,  we  shall  find  all 
plants  in  possession  of  the  same  powers,  at  one  time  or 
other  of  their  existence. 

I  am  not  now  alluding  to  such  phsenomena,  at  once 
rare  and  conspicuous,  as  those  exhibited  by  the  leaflets 
of  the  sensitive  plants,  or  the  stamens  of  the  barberry, 
but  to  much  more  widely  spread,  and  at  the  same  time, 
more  subtle  and  hidden,  manifestations  of  vegetable 
contractility.  You  are  doubtless  aware  that  the  com- 
mon nettle  owes  its  stinging  property  to  the  innumer- 
able stiff  and  needle-like,  though  exquisitely  delicate, 
hairs  which  cover  its  surface.  Each  stinging-needle 
tapers  from  a  broad  base  to  a  slender  summit,  which, 
though  rounded  at  the  end,  is  of  such  microscopic  fine- 
ness that  it  readily  penetrates,  and  breaks  off  in,  the 
skin.  The  whole  hair  consists  of  a  very  delicate  outer 
case  of  wood,  closery  applied  to  the  inner  surface  of 
which  is  a  layer  of  semifluid  matter,  full  of  innumerable 
granules  of  extreme  minuteness.  This  semi-fluid  lining 
is  protoplasm,  which  thus  constitutes  a  kind  of  bag, 
full  of  a  limpid  liquid,  and  roughly  corresponding  in 
form  with  the  interior  of  the  hair  which  it  fills.  When 
viewed  with  a  sufficiently  high  magnifying  power,  the 
protoplasmic  layer  of  the  nettle  hair  is  seen  to  be  in  a 
condition  of  unceasing  activity.  Local  contractions  of 
the  whole  thickness  of  its  substance  pass  slowly  and 
gradually  from  point  to  point,  and  give  rise  to  the  ap- 
pearance of  progressive  waves,  just  as  the  bending  of 


ON  THE   PHYSICAL   BASIS  OF  LIFE         99 

successive  stalks  of  corn  by  a  breeze  produces  the  ap- 
parent billows  of  a  cornfield. 

But,  in  addition  to  these  movements,  and  independ- 
ently of  them,  the  granules  are  driven,  in  relatively 
rapid  streams,  through  channels  in  the  protoplasm 
which  seem  to  have  a  considerable  amount  of  persist- 
ence. Most  commonly,  the  currents  in  adjacent  parts 
of  the  protoplasm  take  similar  directions;  and,  thus, 
there  is  a  general  stream  up  one  side  of  the  hair  and 
down  the  other.  But  this  does  not  prevent  the  existence 
of  partial  currents  which  take  different  routes;  and 
sometimes  trains  of  granules  may  be  seen  coursing 
swiftly  in  opposite  directions  within  a  twenty-thou- 
sandth of  an  inch  of  one  another;  while,  occasionally, 
opposite  streams  come  into  direct  collision,  and,  after 
a  longer  or  shorter  struggle,  one  predominates.  The 
cause  of  these  currents  seems  to  lie  in  contractions  of 
the  protoplasm  which  bounds  the  channels  in  which 
they  flow,  but  which  are  so  minute  that  the  best  mi- 
croscopes show  only  their  effects,  and  not  themselves. 

The  spectacle  afforded  by  the  wonderful  energies 
prisoned  within  the  compass  of  the  microscopic  hair  of 
a  plant,  which  we  commonly  regard  as  a  merely  passive 
organism,  is  not  easily  forgotten  by  one  who  has 
watched  its  display,  continued  hour  after  hour,  without 
pause  or  sign  of  weakening.  The  possible  complexity 
of  many  other  organic  forms,  seemingly  as  simple  as  the 
protoplasm  of  the  nettle,  dawns  upon  one;  and  the 
comparison  of  such  a  protoplasm  to  a  body  wTith  an  in- 
ternal circulation,  which  has  been  put  forward  by  an 
eminent  physiologist,  loses  much  of  its  startling  charac- 
ter. Currents  similar  to  those  of  the  hairs  of  the  nettle 
have  been  observed  in  a  great  multitude  of  very  differ- 
ent plants,  and  weighty  authorities  have  suggested  that 


100       ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

they  probably  occur,  in  more  or  less  perfection,  in  all 
young  vegetable  cells.  If  such  be  the  case,  the  wonder- 
ful noonday  silence  of  a  tropical  forest  is,  after  all,, due 
only  to  the  dulness  of  our  hearing;  and  could  our  ears 
catch  the  murmur  of  these  tiny  Maelstroms,  as  they 
whirl  in  the  innumerable  myriads  of  living  cells  which 
constitute  each  tree,  we  should  be  stunned,  as  with  the 
roar  of  a  great  city. 

Among  the  lower  plants,  it  is  the  rule  rather  than 
the  exception,  that  contractility  should  be  still  more 
openly  manifested  at  some  periods  of  their  existence. 
The  protoplasm  of  Algcs  and  Fungi  becomes,  under 
many  circumstances,  partially,  or  completely,  freed 
from  its  woody  case,  and  exhibits  movements  of  its 
whole  mass,  or  is  propelled  by  the  contractility  of  one, 
or  more,  hair-like  prolongations  of  its  body,  which  are 
called  vibratile  cilia.  And,  so  far  as  the  conditions  o' 
the  manifestation  of  the  phenomena  of  contractility 
have  yet  been  studied,  they  are  the  same  for  the  plant  as 
for  the  animal.  Heat  and  electric  shocks  influence  both, 
and  in  the  same  way,  though  it  may  be  in  different  de- 
grees. It  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  suggest  that 
there  is  no  difference  in  faculty  between  the  lowest 
plant  and  the  highest,  or  between  plants  and  animals. 
But  the  difference  between  the  powers  of  the  lowest 
plant,  or  animal,  and  those  of  the  highest,  is  one  of  de- 
gree, not  of  kind,  and  depends,  as  Milne-Edwards  long 
ago  so  well  pointed  out,  upon  the  extent  to  which  the 
principle  of  the  division  of  labour  is  carried  out  in  the 
living  economy.  In  the  lowest  organism  all  parts  are 
competent  to  perform  all  functions,  and  one  and  the 
same  portion  of  protoplasm  may  successfully  take  on 
the  function  of  feeding,  moving,  or  reproducing  appara- 
tus. In  the  highest,  on  the  contrary,  a  great  number  of 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE      101 

parts  combine  to  perform  each  function,  each  part  do- 
ing its  allotted  share  of  the  work  with  great  accuracy 
and  efficiency,  but  being  useless  for  any  other  purpose. 

On  the  other  hand,  notwithstanding  all  the  funda- 
mental resemblances  which  exist  between  the  powers 
of  the  protoplasm  in  plants  and  in  animals,  they  pre- 
sent a  striking  difference  (to  which  I  shall  advert  more 
at  length  presently),  in  the  fact  that  plants  can  manu- 
facture fresh  protoplasm  out  of  mineral  compounds, 
whereas  animals  are  obliged  to  procure  it  ready  made, 
and  hence,  in  the  long  run,  depend  upon  plants.  Upon 
what  condition  this  difference  in  the  powers  of  the  two 
great  divisions  of  the  world  of  life  depends,  nothing  is 
at  present  known. 

With  such  qualifications  as  arises  out  of  the  last- 
mentioned  fact,  it  may  be  truly  said  that  the  acts  of  all  r 
living  things  are  fundamentally  one.flsFany  such  unity 
predicable  of  their  forms  ?  Let  us  seek  in  easily  veri- 
fied facts  for  a  reply  to  this  question.  If  a  drop  of  blood 
be  drawn  by  pricking  one's  finger,  and  viewed  with 
proper  precautions,  and  under  a  sufficiently  high  mi- 
croscopic power,  there  will  be  seen,  among  the  innu- 
merable multitude  of  little,  circular,  discoidal  bodies, 
or  corpuscles,  which  float  in  it  and  give  it  its  colour,  a 
comparatively  small  number  of  colourless  corpuscles, 
of  somewhat  larger  size  and  very  irregular  shape.  If 
the  drop  of  blood  be  kept  at  the  temperature  of  the 
body,  these  colourless  corpuscles  will  be  seen  to  exhibit 
a  marvellous  activity,  changing  their  forms  with  great 
rapidity,  drawing  in  and  thrusting  out  prolongations 
of  their  substance,  and  creeping  about  as  if  they  were 
independent  organisms. 

The  substance  which  is  thus  active  is  a  mass  of  pro- 
toplasm, and  its  activity  differs  in  detail,  rather  than  in 


102      ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

principle,  from  that  of  the  protoplasm  of  the  nettle. 
Under  sundry  circumstances  the  corpuscle  dies  and 
becomes  distended  into  a  round  mass,  in  the  midst  of 
which  is  seen  a  smaller  spherical  body,  which  existed, 
but  was  more  or  less  hidden,  in  the  living  corpuscle,  and 
is  called  its  nucleus.  Corpuscles  of  essentially  similar 
structure  are  to  be  found  in  the  skin,  in  the  lining  of  the 
mouth,  and  scattered  through  the  whole  framework  of 
the  body.  Nay,  more;  in  the  earliest  condition  of  the 
human  organism,  in  that  state  in  which  it  has  but  just 
become  distinguishable  from  the  egg  in  which  it  arises, 
it  is  nothing  but  an  aggregation  of  such  corpuscles,  and 
every  organ  of  the  body  was,  once,  no  more  than  such 
an  aggregation. 

Thus  a  nucleated  mass  of  protoplasm  turns  out  to  be 
what  may  be  termed  the  structural  unit  of  the  human 
body.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  body,  in  its  earliest  state, 
is  a  mere  multiple  of  such  units ;  and  in  its  perfect  con- 
dition, it  is  a  multiple  of  such  units,  variously  modified. 

But  does  the  formula  which  expresses  the  essential 
structural  character  of  the  highest  animal  cover  all  the 
rest,  as  the  statement  of  its  powers  and  faculties  covered 
that  of  all  others  ?  Very  nearly.  Beast  and  fowl,  reptile 
and  fish,  mollusk,  worm,  and  polype,  are  all  composed 
of  structural  units  of  the  same  character,  namely, 
masses  of  protoplasm  with  a  nucleus.  There  are  sundry 
very  low  animals,  each  of  which,  structurally,  is  a  mere 
colourless  blood  -  corpuscle,  leading  an  independent 
life.  But,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  animal  scale,  even 
this  simplicity  becomes  simplified,  and  all  the  phse- 
nomena  of  life  are  manifested  by  a  particle  of  proto- 
plasm without  a  nucleus.  Nor  are  such  organisms  in- 
significant by  reason  of  their  want  of  complexity.  It  is 
a  fair  question  whether  the  protoplasm  of  those  simplest 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE      103 

forms  of  life,  which  people  an  immense  extent  of  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  would  not  outweigh  that  of  all  the 
higher  living  beings  which  inhabit  the  land  put  together. 
And  in  ancient  times,  no  less  than  at  the  present  day, 
such  living  beings  as  these  have  been  the  greatest  of 
rock  builders. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  animal  world  is  no  less 
true  of  plants.  Imbedded  in  the  protoplasm  at  the 
broad,  or  attached,  end  of  the  nettle  hair,  there  lies 
a  spheroidal  nucleus.  Careful  examination  further 
proves  that  the  whole  substance  of  the  nettle  is  made 
up  of  a  repetition  of  such  masses  of  nucleated  proto- 
plasm, each  contained  in  a  wooden  case,  which  is  modi- 
fied in  form,  sometimes  into  a  woody  fibre,  sometimes 
into  a  duct  or  spiral  vessel,  sometimes  into  a  pollen 
grain,  or  an  ovule.  Traced  back  to  its  earliest  state, 
the  nettle  arises  as  the  man  does,  in  a  particle  of 
nucleated  protoplasm.  And  in  the  lowest  plants,  as  in 
the  lowest  animals,  a  single  mass  of  such  protoplasm 
may  constitute  the  whole  plant,  or  the  protoplasm  may 
exist  without  a  nucleus. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  may  well  be  asked,  how 
is  one  mass  of  non-nucleated  protoplasm  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  another?  why  call  one  "plant"  and 
the  other  "animal"? 

The  only  reply  is  that,  so  far  as  form  is  concerned, 
plants  and  animals  are  not  separable,  and  that,  in 
many  cases,  it  is  a  mere  matter  of  convention  whether 
we  call  a  given  organism  an  animal  or  a  plant.  There 
is  a  living  body  called  jEthalium  septicum,  which  ap- 
pears upon  decaying  vegetable  substances,  and,  in  one 
of  its  forms,  is  common  upon  the  surfaces  of  tan-pits. 
In  this  condition  it  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a 
fungus,  and  formerly  was  always  regarded  as  such ;  but 


104       OX  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

the  remarkable  investigations  of  De  Bary  have  shown 
that,  in  another  condition,  the  sEthalium  is  an  actively 
locomotive  creature,  and  takes  in  solid  matters,  upon 
which,  apparently,  it  feeds,  thus  exhibiting  the  most 
characteristic  feature  of  animality.  Is  this  a  plant ;  or 
is  it  an  animal?  Is  it  both;  or  is  it  neither?  Some 
decide  in  favour  of  the  last  supposition,  and  establish 
an  intermediate  kingdom,  a  sort  of  biological  No  Man's 
Land  for  all  these  questionable  forms.  But,  as  it  is  ad- 
mittedly impossible  to  draw  any  distinct  boundary  line 
between  this  no  man's  land  and  the  vegetable  world  on 
the  one  hand,  or  the  animal,  on  the  other,  it  appears  to 
me  that  this  proceeding  merely  doubles  the  difficulty 
which,  before,  was  single. 

Protoplasm,  simple  or  nucleated,  is  the  formal  basis 
of  all  life.  It  is  the  clay  of  the  potter :  which,  bake  it  and 
paint  it  as  he  will,  remains  clay,  separated  by  artifice, 
and  not  by  nature,  from  the  commonest  brick  or  sun- 
dried  clod. 

Thus  it  becomes  clear  that  all  living  powers  are  cog- 
nate, and  that  all  living  forms  are  fundamentally  of  one 
character.  The  researches  of  the  chemist  have  revealed 
a  no  less  striking  uniformity  of  material  composition  in 
living  matter. 

In  perfect  strictness,  it  is  true  that  chemical  investi- 
gation can  tell  us  little  or  nothing,  directly,  of  the  com- 
position of  living  matter,  inasmuch  as  such  matter 
must  needs  die  in  the  act  of  analysis,  —  and  upon  this 
very  obvious  ground,  objections,  which  I  confess  seem 
to  me  to  be  somewhat  frivolous,  have  been  raised  to  the 
drawing  of  any  conclusions  whatever  respecting  the 
composition  of  actually  living  matter,  from  that  of  the 
dead  matter  of  life,  which  alone  is  accessible  to  us.  But 
objectors  of  this  class  do  not  seem  to  reflect  that  it  is 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE      105 

also,  in  strictness,  true  that  we  know  nothing  about  the 
composition  of  any  body  whatever,  as  it  is.  The  state- 
ment that  a  crystal  of  calc-spar  consists  of  carbonate  of 
lime,  is  quite  true,  if  we  only  mean  that,  by  appropriate 
processes,  it  may  be  resolved  into  carbonic  acid  and 
quicklime.  If  you  pass  the  same  carbonic  acid  over  the 
very  quicklime  thus  obtained,  you  will  obtain  carbonate 
of  lime  again ;  but  it  will  not  be  calc-spar,  nor  anything 
like  it.  Can  it,  therefore,  be  said  that  chemical  analysis 
teaches  nothing  about  the  chemical  composition  of 
calc-spar  ?  Such  a  statement  would  be  absurd ;  but  it  is 
hardly  more  so  than  the  talk  one  occasionally  hears 
about  the  uselessness  of  applying  the  results  of  chemical 
analysis  to  the -living  bodies  which  have  yielded  them. 

One  fact,  at  any  rate,  is  out  of  reach  of  such  refine- 
ments, and  this  is,  that  all  the  forms  of  protoplasm 
which  have  yet  been  examined  contain  the  four  ele- 
ments, carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  in  very 
complex  union,  and  that  they  behave  similarly  towards 
several  reagents.  To  this  complex  combination,  the 
nature  of  which  has  never  been  determined  with  exact- 
ness, the  name  of  Protein  has  been  applied.  And  if  we 
use  this  term  with  such  caution  as  may  properly  arise 
out  of  our  comparative  ignorance  of  the  things  for  which 
it  stands,  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  all  protoplasm  is 
proteinaceous,  or,  as  the  white,  or  albumen,  of  an  egg 
is  one  of  the  commonest  examples  of  a  nearly  pure 
proteine  matter,  we  may  say  that  all  living  matter  is 
more  or  less  albuminoid. 

Perhaps  it  would  not  yet  be  safe  to  say  that  all  forms 
of  protoplasm  are  affected  by  the  direct  action  of 
electric  shocks ;  and  yet  the  number  of  cases  in  which 
the  contraction  of  protoplasm  is  shown  to  be  affected 
by  this  agency  increases  every  day. 


106       ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS. OF  LIFE 

Nor  can  it  be  affirmed  with  perfect  confidence,  that 
all  forms  of  protoplasm  are  liable  to  undergo  that  pe- 
culiar coagulation  at  a  temperature  of  40°  —  50°  centi- 
grade, which  has  been  called  "heat-stiffening,"  though 
Kiihne's  beautiful  researches  have  proved  this  occur- 
rence to  take  place  in  so  many  and  such  diverse  living 
beings,  that  it  is  hardly  rash  to  expect  that  the  law 
holds  good  for  all. 

Enough  has,  perhaps,  been  said  to  prove  the  exist- 
ence of  a  general  uniformity  in  the  character  of  the 
protoplasm,  or  physical  basis,  of  life,  in  whatever 
group  of  living  beings  it  may  be  studied.  But  it  will  be 
understood  that  this  general  uniformity  by  no  means 
excludes  any  amount  of  special  modifications  of  the 
fundamental  substance.  The  mineral,  carbonate  of 
lime,  assumes  an  immense  diversity  of  characters, 
though  no  one  doubts  that,  under  all  these  Protean 
changes,  it  is  one  and  the  same  thing. 

And  now,  what  is  the  ultimate  fate,  and  what  the 
origin,  of  the  matter  of  life  ? 

Is  it,  as  some  of  the  older  naturalists  supposed,  dif- 
fused throughout  the  universe  in  molecules,  which  are 
indestructible  and  unchangeable  in  themselves ;  but,  in 
endless  transmigration,  unite  in  innumerable  permu- 
tations, into  the  diversified  forms  of  life  we  know  ?  Or, 
is  the  matter  of  life  composed  of  ordinary  matter,  differ- 
ing from  it  only  in  the  manner  in  which  its  atoms  are 
aggregated  ?  Is  it  built  up  of  ordinary  matter,  and  again 
resolved  into  ordinary  matter  when  its  work  is  done  ? 

Modern  science  does  not  hesitate  a  moment  between 
these  alternatives.  Physiology  writes  over  the  portals 
of  life  — 

"  Debemur  rnorti  nos  nostraque," 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE       107 

with  a  profounder  meaning  than  the  Roman  poet  at- 
tached to  that  melancholy  line.  Under  whatever  dis- 
guise it  takes  refuge,  whether  fungus  or  oak,  worm  or 
man,  the  living  protoplasm  not  only  ultimately  dies  and 
is  resolved  into  its  mineral  and  lifeless  constituents,  but 
is  always  dying,  and,  strange  as  the  paradox  may  sound, 
could  not  live  unless  it  died. 

In  the  wonderful  story  of  the  Peau  de  Chagrin, 
the  hero  becomes  possessed  of  a  magical  wild  ass'  skin, 
which  yields  him  the  means  of  gratifying  all  his  wishes. 
But  its  surface  represents  the  duration  of  the  proprie- 
tor's life ;  and  for  every  satisfied  desire  the  skin  shrinks 
in  proportion  to  the  intensity  of  fruition,  until  at  length 
life  and  the  last  handbreadth  of  the  peau  de  chagrin, 
disappear  with  the  gratification  of  a  last  wish. 

Balzac's  studies  had  led  him  over  a  wide  range  of 
thought  and  speculation,  and  his  shadowing  forth  of 
physiological  truth  in  this  strange  story  may  have  been 
intentional.  At  any  rate,  the  matter  of  life  is  a  veritable 
peau  de  chagrin,  and  for  every  vital  act  it  is  somewhat 
the  smaller.  All  work  implies  waste,  and  the  work  of 
life  results,  directly  or  indirectly,  in  the  waste  of  proto- 
plasm. 

Every  word  uttered  by  a  speaker  costs  him  some 
physical  loss ;  and,  in  the  strictest  sense,  he  burns  that 
others  may  have  light  —  so  much  eloquence,  so  much 
of  his  body  resolved  into  carbonic  acid,  water,  and  urea. 
It  is  clear  that  this  process  of  expenditure  cannot  go  on 
for  ever.  But,  happily,  the  protoplasmic  peau  de  cha- 
grin differs  from  Balzac's  in  its  capacity  of  being  re- 
paired, and  brought  back  to  its  full  size,  after  every 
exertion. 

For  example,  this  present  lecture,  whatever  its  intel- 
lectual worth  to  you,  has  a  certain  physical  value  to  me, 


108      ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

which  is,  conceivably,  expressible  by  the  number  of 
grains  of  protoplasm  and  other  bodily  substance  wasted 
in  maintaining  my  vital  processes  during  its  delivery. 
My  peau  de  chagrin  will  be  distinctly  smaller  at  the  end 
of  the  discourse  than  it  was  at  the  beginning.  By  and 
by,  I  shall  probably  have  recourse  to  the  substance 
commonly  called  mutton,  for  the  purpose  of  stretching 
it  back  to  its  original  size.  Now  this  mutton  was  once 
the  living  protoplasm,  more  or  less  modified,  of  another 
animal  —  a  sheep.  As  I  shall  eat  it,  it  is  the  same  mat- 
ter altered,  not  only  by  death,  but  by  exposure  to  sundry 
artificial  operations  in  the  process  of  cooking. 

But  these  changes,  whatever  be  their  extent,  have  not 
rendered  it  incompetent  to  resume  its  old  functions  as 
matter  of  life.  A  singular  inward  laboratory,  which  I 
possess,  will  dissolve  a  certain  portion  of  the  modified 
protoplasm;  the  solution  so  formed  will  pass  into  my 
veins ;  and  the  subtle  influences  to  which  it  will  then  be 
subjected  will  convert  the  dead  protoplasm  into  living 
protoplasm,  and  transubstantiate  sheep  into  man. 

Nor  is  this  all.  If  digestion  were  a  thing  to  be  trifled 
with,  I  might  sup  upon  lobster,  and  the  matter  of  life 
of  the  crustacean  would  undergo  the  same  wonderful 
metamorphosis  into  humanity.  And  were  I  to  return 
to  my  own  place  by  sea,  and  undergo  shipwreck,  the 
crustacean  might,  and  probably  would,  return  the  com- 
pliment, and  demonstrate  our  common  nature  by  turn- 
ing my  protoplasm  into  living  lobster.  Or,  if  nothing 
better  were  to  be  had,  I  might  supply  my  wants  with 
mere  bread,  and  I  should  find  the  protoplasm  of  the 
wheat-plant  to  be  convertible  into  man,  with  no  more 
trouble  than  that  of  the  sheep,  and  with  far  less,  I 
fancy,  than  that  of  the  lobster. 

Hence  it  appears  to  be  a  matter  of  no  great  moment 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE       109 

what  animal,  or  what  plant,  I  lay  under  contribution 
for  protoplasm,  and  the  fact  speaks  volumes  for  the 
general  identity  of  that  substance  in  all  living  beings. 
I  share  this  catholicity  of  assimilation  with  other  ani- 
mals, all  of  which,  so  far  as  we  know,  could  thrive 
equally  well  on  the  protoplasm  of  any  of  their  fellows, 
or  of  any  plant ;  but  here  the  assimilative  powers  of  the 
animal  world  cease.  A  solution  of  smelling-salts  in 
water,  with  an  infinitesimal  proportion  of  some  other 
saline  matters,  contains  all  the  elementary  bodies 
which  enter  into  the  composition  of  protoplasm;  but, 
as  I  need  hardly  say,  a  hogshead  of  that  fluid  would  not 
keep  a  hungry  man  from  starving,  nor  would  it  save 
any  animal  whatever  from  a  like  fate.  An  animal  can- 
not make  protoplasm,  but  must  take  it  ready-made 
from  some  other  animal,  or  some  plant  —  the  animal's 
highest  feat  of  constructive  chemistry  being  to  convert 
dead  protoplasm  into  that  living  matter  of  life  which  is 
appropriate  to  itself. 

Therefore,  in  seeking  for  the  origin  of  protoplasm, 
we  must  eventually  turn  to  the  vegetable  world.  A 
fluid  containing  carbonic  acid,  water,  and  nitrogenous 
salts,  which  offers  such  a  Barmecide  feast  to  the  animal, 
is  a  table  richly  spread  to  multitudes  of  plants;  and, 
with  a  due  supply  of  only  such  materials,  many  a  plant 
will  not  only  maintain  itself  in  vigour,  but  grow  and 
multiply  until  it  has  increased  a  million -fold,  or  a  mil- 
lion million-fold,  the  quantity  of  protoplasm  which  it 
originally  possessed ;  in  this  way  building  up  the  matter 
of  life,  to  an  indefinite  extent,  from  the  common  matter 
of  the  universe. 

Thus,  the  animal  can  only  raise  the  complex  sub- 
stance of  dead  protoplasm  to  the  higher  power,  as 
one  may  say,  of  living  protoplasm ;  while  the  plant  can 


110       ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

raise  the  less  complex  substances  —  carbonic  acid, 
water,  and  nitrogenous  salts  —  to  the  same  stage  of 
living  protoplasm,  if  not  to  the  same  level.  But  the 
plant  also  has  its  limitations.  Some  of  the  fungi,  for 
example,  appear  to  need  higher  compounds  to  start 
with;  and  no  known  plant  can  live  upon  the  uncom- 
pounded  elements  of  protoplasm.  A  plant  supplied 
with  pure  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen, 
phosphorus,  sulphur,  and  the  like,  would  as  infallibly 
die  as  the  animal  in  his  bath  of  smelling-salts,  though 
it  would  be  surrounded  by  all  the  constituents  of  proto- 
plasm. Nor,  indeed,  need  the  process  of  simplification 
of  vegetable  food  be  carried  so  far  as  this,  in  order  to 
arrive  at  the  limit  of  the  plant's  thaumaturgy.  Let 
water,  carbonic  acid,  and  all  the  other  needful  constit- 
uents be  supplied  except  nitrogenous  salts,  and  an 
ordinary  plant  will  still  be  unable  to  manufacture  pro- 
toplasm. 

Thus  the  matter  of  life,  so  far  as  we  know  it  (and  we 
have  no  right  to  speculate  on  any  other),  breaks  up, 
in  consequence  of  that  continual  death  which  is  the  con- 
dition of  its  manifesting  vitality,  into  carbonic  acid, 
water,  and  nitrogenous  compounds,  which  certainly 
possess  no  properties  but  those  of  ordinary  matter.  And 
out  of  these  same  forms  of  ordinary  matter,  and  from 
none  which  are  simpler,  the  vegetable  world  builds 
up  all  the  protoplasm  which  keeps  the  animal  world 
a-going.  Plants  are  the  accumulators  of  the  power 
which  animals  distribute  and  disperse. 
-  But  it  will  be  observed,  that  the  existence  of  the  mat- 
ter of  life  depends  on  the  pre-existence  of  certain  com- 
pounds; namely,  carbonic  acid,  water,  and  certain 
nitrogenous  bodies.  Withdraw  any  one  of  these  three 
from  the  world,  and  all  vital  phenomena  come  to  an 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE       111 

end.  They  are  as  necessary  to  the  protoplasm  of  the 
plant,  as  the  protoplasm  of  the  plant  is  to  that  of  the 
animal.  Carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen  are 
all  lifeless  bodies.  Of  these,  carbon  and  oxygen  unite 
in  certain  proportions  and  under  certain  conditions,  to 
give  rise  to  carbonic  acid;  hydrogen  and  oxygen  pro- 
duce water;  nitrogen  and  other  elements  give  rise  to 
nitrogenous  salts.  These  new  compounds,  like  the 
elementary  bodies  of  which  they  are  composed,  are 
lifeless.  But  when  they  are  brought  together,  under 
certain  conditions,  they  give  rise  to  the  still  more  com- 
plex body,  protoplasm,  and  this  protoplasm  exhibits 
the  phsenomena  of  life. 

I  see  no  break  in  this  series  of  steps  in  molecular 
complication,  and  I  am  unable  to  understand  why  the 
language  which  is  applicable  to  any  one  term  of  the 
series  may  not  be  used  to  any  of  the  others.  We  think 
fit  to  call  different  kinds  of  matter  carbon,  oxygen, 
hydrogen,  and  nitrogen,  and  to  speak  of  the  various 
powers  and  activities  of  these  substances  as  the  proper- 
ties of  the  matter  of  which  they  are  composed. 

When  hydrogen  and  oxygen  are  mixed  in  a  certain 
proportion,  and  an  electric  spark  is  passed  through 
them,  they  disappear,  and  a  quantity  of  water,  equal 
in  weight  to  the  sum  of  their  weights,  appears  in  their 
place.  There  is  not  the  slightest  parity  between  the 
passive  and  active  powers  of  the  water  and  those  of  the 
oxygen  and  hydrogen  which  have  given  rise  to  it.  At 
32°  Fahrenheit,  and  far  below  that  temperature,  oxygen 
and  hydrogen  are  elastic  gaseous  bodies,  whose  particles 
tend  to  rush  away  from  one  another  with  great  force. 
Water,  at  the  same  temperature,  is  a  strong  though 
brittle  solid  whose  particles  tend  to  cohere  into  definite 
geometrical  shapes,  and  sometimes  build  up  frosty  imi- 


112       ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

tations  of  the  most  complex  forms  of  vegetable  foli- 
age. 

Nevertheless  we  call  these,  and  many  other  strange 
phsenomena,  the  properties  of  the  water,  and  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  believe  that,  in  some  way  or  another,  they 
result  from  the  properties  of  the  component  elements 
of  the  water.  We  do  not  assume  that  a  something  called 
"aquosity"  entered  into  and  took  possession  of  the 
oxidated  hydrogen  as  soon  as  it  was  formed,  and  then 
guided  the  aqueous  particles  to  their  places  in  the  facets 
of  the  crystal,  or  amongst  the  leaflets  of  the  hoar-frost. 
On  the  contrary,  we  live  in  the  hope  and  in  the  faith 
that,  by  the  advance  of  molecular  physics,  we  shall  by 
and  by  be  able  to  see  our  way  as  clearly  from  the  constit- 
uents of  water  to  the  properties  of  water,  as  we  are 
now  able  to  deduce  the  operations  of  a  watch  from  the 
form  of  its  parts  and  the  manner  in  which  they  are  put 
together. 

Is  the  case  in  any  way  changed  when  carbonic  acid, 
water,  and  nitrogenous  salts  disappear,  and  in  their 
place,  under  the  influence  of  pre-existing  living  proto- 
plasm, an  equivalent  weight  of  the  matter  of  life  makes 
its  appearance? 

It  is  true  that  there  is  no  sort  of  parity  between  the 
properties  of  the  components  and  the  properties  of  the 
resultant,  but  neither  was  there  in  the  case  of  the  water. 
It  is  also  true  that  what  I  have  spoken  of  as  the  influ- 
ence of  pre-existing  living  matter  is  something  quite 
unintelligible;  but  does  anybody  quite  comprehend  the 
modus  operandi  of  an  electric  spark,  which  traverses  a 
mixture  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  ? 

What  justification  is  there,  then,  for  the  assumption 
of  the  existence  in  the  living  matter  of  a  something 
which  has  no  representative,  or  correlative,  in  the  not 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE       113 

living  matter  which  gave  rise  to  it  ?  What  better  philo- 
sophical status  has  "vitality"  than  "aquosity"?  And 
why  should  "vitality"  hope  for  a  better  fate  than  the 
other  "itys"  which  have  disappeared  since  Martinus 
Scriblerus  accounted  for  the  operation  of  the  meat- 
jack  by  its  inherent  "meat-roasting  quality,"  and 
scorned  the  "materialism"  of  those  who  explained  the 
turning  of  the  spit  by  a  certain  mechanism  worked  by 
the  draught  of  the  chimney. 

If  scientific  language  is  to  possess  a  definite  and  con- 
stant signification  whenever  it  is  employed,  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  are  logically  bound  to  apply  to  the  proto- 
plasm, or  physical  basis  of  life,  the  same  conceptions  as 
those  which  are  held  to  be  legitimate  elsewhere.  If  the 
phsenomena  exhibited  by  water  are  its  properties,  so 
are  those  presented  by  protoplasm,  living  or  dead,  its 
properties. 

If  the  properties  of  water  may  be  properly  said  to 
result  from  the  nature  and  disposition  of  its  component 
molecules,  I  can  find  no  intelligible  ground  for  refusing 
to  say  that  the  properties  of  protoplasm  result  from  the 
nature  and  disposition  of  its  molecules. 

But  I  bid  you  beware  that,  in  accepting  these  con- 
clusions, you  are  placing  your  feet  on  the  first  rung  of  a 
ladder  which,  in  most  people's  estimation,  is  the  reverse 
of  Jacob's,  and  leads  to  the  antipodes  of  heaven.  It  may 
seem  a  small  thing  to  admit  that  the  dull  vital  actions  of 
a  fungus,  or  a  foraminifer,  are  the  properties  of  their 
protoplasm,  and  are  the  direct  results  of  the  nature  of 
the  matter  of  which  they  are  composed.  But  if,  as  I* 
have  endeavoured  to  prove  to  you,  their  protoplasm  is 
essentially  identical  with,  and  most  readily  converted 
into,  that  of  any  animal,  I  can  discover  no  logical  halt- 
ing-place between  the  admission  that  such  is  the  case, 


114       ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE 

and  the  further  concession  that  all  vital  action  may, 
with  equal  propriety,  be  said  to  be  the  result  of  the 
molecular  forces  of  the  protoplasm  which  displays  it. 
And  if  so,  it  must  be  true,  in  the  same  sense  and  to  the 
same  extent,  that  the  thoughts  to  which  I  am  now  giv- 
ing utterance,  and  your  thoughts  regarding  them,  are 
the  expression  of  molecular  changes  in  that  matter  of 
life  which  is  the  source  of  our  other  vital  phsenomena. 


ON  CORAL  AND   CORAL  REEFS 

THE  marine  productions  which  are  commonly 
known  by  the  names  of  "Corals"  and  "Corallines," 
were  thought  by  the  ancients  to  be  sea-weeds,  which 
had  the  singular  property  of  becoming  hard  and  solid, 
when  they  were  fished  up  from  their  native  depths  and 
came  into  'contact  with  the  air. 

"Sic  et  curalium,  quo  primum  contigit  auras 
Tempore  durescit:  mollis  fuit  herba  sub  undis," 

says  Ovid  (Metam.  xv) ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  seven- 
teenth century  that  Boccone  was  emboldened,  by  per- 
sonal experience  of  the  facts,  to  declare  that  the  holders 
of  this  belief  were  no  better  than  "idiots,"  who  had 
been  misled  by  the  softness  of  the  outer  coat  of  the 
living  red  coral  to  imagine  that  it  was  soft  all  through. 
Messer  Boccone 's  strong  epithet  is  probably  unde- 
served, as  the  notion  he  controverts,  in  all  likelihood, 
arose  merely  from  the  misinterpretation  of  the  strictly 
true  statement  which  any  coral  fisherman  would  make 
to  a  curious  inquirer;  namely,  that  the  outside  coat  of 
the  red  coral  is  quite  soft  when  it  is  taken  out  of  the  sea. 
At  any  rate,  he  did  good  service  by  eliminating  this 
much  error  from  the  current  notions  about  coral.  But 
the  belief  that  corals  are  plants  remained,  not  only  in 
the  popular,  but  in  the  scientific  mind ;  and  it  received 
what  appeared  to  be  a  striking  confirmation  from  the 
researches  of  Marsigli  in  1706.  For  this  naturalist, 
having  the  opportunity  of  observing  freshly-taken  red 
coral,  saw  that  its  branches  were  beset  with  what 


116          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

looked  like  delicate  and  beautiful  flowers  each  having 
eight  petals.  It  was  true  that  these  "flowers"  could 
protrude  and  retract  themselves,  but  their  motions 
were  hardly  more  extensive,  or  more  varied,  than  those 
of  the  leaves  of  the  sensitive  plant;  and  therefore  they 
could  not  be  held  to  militate  against  the  conclusion  so 
strongly  suggested  by  their  form  and  their  grouping 
upon  the  branches  of  a  tree-like  structure. 

Twenty  years  later,  a  pupil  of  Marsigli,  the  young 
Marseilles  physician,  Peyssonel,  conceived  the  desire 
to  study  these  singular  sea-plants,  and  was  sent  by  the 
French  Government  on  a  mission  to  the  Mediterranean 
for  that  purpose.  The  pupil  undertook  the  investiga- 
tion full  of  confidence  in  the  ideas  of  his  master,  but 
being  able  to  see  and  think  for  himself,  he  soon  dis- 
covered that  those  ideas  by  no  means  altogether  corre- 
sponded with  reality.  In  an  essay  entitled  "  Traite  du 
Corail,"  which  was  communicated  to  the  French  Acad- 
emy of  Science,  but  which  has  never  been  published, 
Peyssonel  writes :  — 

"  Je  fis  fleurir  le  corail  dans  des  vases  pleins  d'eau  de 
mer,  et  j'observai  que  ce  que  nous  croyons  etre  la  fleur 
de  cette  pretendue  plante  n'etait  au  vrai,  qu'un  insecte 
semblable  a  une  petite  Ortie  ou  Poulpe.  J'avais  le 
plaisir  de  voir  remuer  les  pattes,  ou  pieds,  de  cette 
Ortie,  et  ayant  mis  le  vase  plein  d'eau  ou  le  corail  etait 
a  une  douce  chaleur  aupres  du  feu,  tous  les  petits  in- 
sectes  s'epanouirent.  —  L'Ortie  sortie  etend  les  pieds, 
et  forme  ce  que  M.  de  Marsigli  et  moi  avions  pris  pour 
les  petales  de  la  fleur.  Le  calice  de  cette  pretendue  fleur 
est  le  corps  meme  de  1'animal  avance  et  sorti  hors  de  la 
cellule."  » 

1  This  extract  from  Peyssonel's  manuscript  is  given  by  M.  Lacaze 
Duthiers  in  his  valuable  Hiatoire  Naturelle  du  Corail  (1866). 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS          117 

The  comparison  of  the  flowers  of  the  coral  to  a 
"petite  ortie,"  or  "little  nettle,"  is  perfectly  just,  but 
needs  explanation.  "Ortie  de  mer,"  or  "sea-nettle," 
is,  in  fact,  the  French  appellation  for  our  "sea-anem- 
one," a  creature  with  which  everybody,  since  the  great 
aquarium  mania,  must  have  become  familiar,  even  to 
the  limits  of  boredom.  In  1710,  the  great  naturalist, 
Reaumur,  had  written  a  memoir  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  demonstrating  that  these  "orties"  are  animals; 
and  with  this  important  paper  Peyssonel  must  neces- 
sarily have  been  familiar.  Therefore,  when  he  declared 
the  "flowers"  of  the  red  coral  to  be  little  "orties,"  it 
was  the  same  thing  as  saying  that  they  were  animals 
of  the  same  general  nature  as  sea-anemones.  But  to 
Peyssonel's  contemporaries  this  was  an  extremely 
startling  announcement.  It  was  hard  to  imagine  the 
existence  of  such  a  thing  as  an  association  of  animals 
into  a  structure  with  stem  and  branches  altogether  like 
a  plant,  and  fixed  to  the  soil  as  a  plant  is  fixed ;  and  the 
naturalists  of  that  day  preferred  not  to  imagine  it.  Even 
Reaumur  could  not  bring  himself  to  accept  the  notion, 
and  France  being  blessed  with  Academicians,  whose 
great  function  (as  the  late  Bishop  Wilson  and  an  emi- 
nent modern  writer  have  so  well  shown)  is  to  cause 
sweetness  and  light  to  prevail,  and  to  prevent  such 
unmannerly  fellows  as  Peyssonel  from  blurting  out 
unedifying  truths,  they  suppressed  him;  and,  as  afore- 
said, his  great  work  remained  in  manuscript,  and  may 
at  this  day  be  consulted  by  the  curious  in  that  state,  in 
the  Bibliotheque  du  Museum  d'Histoire  Naturelle. 
Peyssonel,  who  evidently  was  a  person  of  savage  and 
untameable  disposition,  so  far  from  appreciating  the 
kindness  of  the  Academicians  in  giving  him  time  to 
reflect  upon  the  unreasonableness,  not  to  say  rudeness, 


118  ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

of  making  public  statements  in  opposition  to  the  views 
of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  of  their  body,  seems 
bitterly  to  have  resented  the  treatment  he  met  with. 
For  he  sent  all  further  communications  to  the  Royal 
Society  of  London,  which  never  had,  and  it  is  to  be 
hoped  never  will  have,  anything  of  an  academic  con- 
stitution ;  and  finally  he  took  himself  off  to  Guadaloupe, 
and  became  lost  to  science  altogether. 

Fifteen  or  sixteen  years  after  the  date  of  Peyssonel's 
suppressed  paper,  the  Abbe  Trembley  published  his 
wonderful  researches  upon  the  fresh-water  Hydra, 
Bernard  de  Jussieu  and  Guettard  followed  them  up  by 
like  inquiries  upon  the  marine  sea-anemones  and  coral- 
lines ;  Reaumur,  convinced  against  his  will  of  the  entire 
justice  of  Peyssonel's  views,  adopted  them,  and  made 
him  a  half-and-half  apology  in  the  preface  to  the  next 
published  volume  of  the  "  Memoires  pour  servir  a  1'His- 
toire  des  Insectes;"  and,  from  this  time  forth,  Peys- 
sonel's doctrine  that  corals  are  the  work  of  animal 
organisms  has  been  part  of  the  body  of  established 
scientific  truth. 

Peyssonel,  in  the  extract  from  his  memoir  already 
cited,  compares  the  flower-like  animal  of  the  coral  to  a 
"  poulpe,"  which  is  the  French  form  of  the  name  "  poly- 
pus,"—  "the  many -footed,"  —  which  the  ancient 
naturalists  gave  to  the  soft-bodied  cuttlefishes,  which, 
like  the  coral  animal,  have  eight  arms,  or  tentacles, 
disposed  around  a  central  mouth.  Reaumur,  admitting 
the  analogy  indicated  by  Peyssonel,  gave  the  name  of 
polypes,  not  only  to  the  sea-anemone,  the  coral  animal, 
and  the  fresh-water  Hydra,  but  to  what  are  now  known 
as  the  Polyzoa,  and  he  termed  the  skeleton  which  they 
fabricate  a  "  poly  pier  "  or  "polypidom." 

The  progress  of  discovery,  since  Reaumur's  time, 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  119 

has  made  us  very  completely  acquainted  with  the  struc- 
ture and  habits  of  all  these  polypes.  We  know  that, 
among  the  sea-anemones  and  coral-forming  animals, 
each  poylpe  has  a  mouth  leading  to  a  stomach,  which 
is  open  at  its  inner  end,  and  thus  communicates  freely 
with  the  general  cavity  of  the  body;  that  the  tentacles 
placed  round  the  mouth  are  hollow,  and  that  they  per- 
form the  part  of  arms  in  seizing  and  capturing  prey. 
It  is  known  that  many  of  these  creatures  are  capable 
of  being  multiplied  by  artificial  division,  the  divided 
halves  growing,  after  a  time,  into  complete  and  separate 
animals;  and  that  many  are  able  to  perform  a  very 
similar  process  naturally,  in  such  a  manner  that  one 
polype  may,  by  repeated  incomplete  divisions,  give  rise 
to  a  sort  of  sheet,  or  turf,  formed  by  innumerable  con- 
nected, and  yet  independent,  descendants.  Or,  what 
is  still  more  common,  a  polype  may  throw  out  buds, 
which  are  converted  into  polypes,  or  branches  bearing 
polypes,  until  a  tree-like  mass,  sometimes  of  very  con- 
siderable size,  is  formed. 

This  is  what  happens  in  the  case  of  the  red  coral  of 
commerce.  A  minute  polype,  fixed  to  the  rocky  bottom 
of  the  deep  sea,  grows  up  into  a  branched  trunk.  The 
end  of  every  branch  and  twig  is  terminated  by  a  polype ; 
and  all  the  polypes  are  connected  together  by  a  fleshy 
substance,  traversed  by  innumerable  canals  which 
place  each  polype  in  communication  with  every  other, 
and  carry  nourishment  to  the  substance  of  the  support- 
ing stem.  It  is  a  sort  of  natural  cooperative  store, 
every  polype  helping  the  whole,  at  the  same  time  as  it 
helps  itself.  The  interior  of  the  stem,  like  that  of  the 
branches,  is  solidified  by  the  deposition  of  carbonate 
of  lime  in  its  tissue,  somewhat  in  the  same  fashion  as 
our  own  bones  are  formed  of  animal  matter  impreg- 


120          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

nated  with  lime  salts;  and  it  is  this  dense  skeleton 
(usually  turned  red  by  a  peculiar  colouring  matter) 
cleared  of  the  soft  animal  investment,  as  the  hard  wood 
of  a  tree  might  be  stripped  of  its  bark,  which  is  the  red 
coral. 

In  the  case  of  the  red  coral,  the  hard  skeleton  belongs 
to  the  interior  of  the  stem  and  branches  only;  but  in 
the  commoner  white  corals,  each  polype  has  a  complete 
skeleton  of  its  own.  These  polypes  are  sometimes  soli- 
tary, in  which  case  the  whole  skeleton  is  represented  by 
a  single  cup,  with  partitions  radiating  from  its  centre 
to  its  circumference.  When  the  polypes  formed  by 
budding  or  division  remain  associated,  the  polypidom 
is  sometimes  made  up  of  nothing  but  an  aggregation  of 
these  cups,  while  at  other  times  the  cups  are  at  once 
separated  and  held  together,  by  an  intermediate  sub- 
stance, which  represents  the  branches  of  the  red  coral. 
The  red  coral  polype  again  is  a  comparatively  rare 
animal,  inhabiting  a  limited  area,  the  skeleton  of  which 
has  but  a  very  insignificant  mass ;  while  the  white  corals 
are  very  common,  occur  in  almost  all  seas,  and  form 
skeletons  which  are  sometimes  extremely  massive. 

With  a  very  few  exceptions,  both  the  red  and  the 
white  coral  polypes  are,  in  their  adult  state,  firmly  ad- 
herent to  the  sea-bottom;  nor  do  their  buds  naturally 
become  detached  and  locomotive.  But,  in  addition  to 
budding  and  division,  these  creatures  possess  the  more 
ordinary  methods  of  multiplication ;  and,  at  particular 
seasons,  they  give  rise  to  numerous  eggs  of  minute  size. 
Within  these  eggs  the  young  are  formed,  and  they  leave 
the  egg  in  a  condition  which  has  no  sort  of  resemblance 
to  the  perfect  animal.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  minute  oval  body, 
many  hundred  times  smaller  than  the  full  grown  crea- 
ture, and  it  swims  about  with  great  activity  by  the  help 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  121 

of  multitudes  of  little  hair-like  filaments,  called  cilia, 
with  which  its  body  is  covered.  These  cilia  all  lash  the 
water  in  one  direction,  and  so  drive  the  little  body  along 
as  if  it  were  propelled  by  thousands  of  extremely  minute 
paddles.  After  enjoying  its  freedom  for  a  longer  or 
shorter  time,  and  being  carried  either  by  the  force  of 
its  own  cilia,  or  by  currents  which  bear  it  along,  the 
embryo  coral  settles  down  to  the  bottom,  loses  its  cilia, 
and  becomes  fixed  to  the  rock,  gradually  assuming  the 
polype  form  and  growing  up  to  the  size  of  its  parent. 
As  the  infant  polypes  of  the  coral  may  retain  this  free 
and  active  condition  for  many  hours,  or  even  days,  and 
as  a  tidal  or  other  current  in  the  sea  may  easily  flow  at 
the  speed  of  two  or  even  more  miles  in  an  hour,  it  is 
clear  that  the  embryo  must  often  be  transported  to  very 
considerable  distances  from  the  parent.  And  it  is 
easily  understood  how  a  single  polype,  which  may  give 
rise  to  hundreds,  or  perhaps  thousands,  of  embryos, 
may,  by  this  process  of  partly  active  and  partly  passive 
migration,  cover  an  immense  surface  with  its  offspring. 
The  masses  of  coral  which  may  be  formed  by  the  as- 
semblages of  polypes  which  spring  by  budding,  or  by 
dividing,  from  a  single  polype,  occasionally  attain  very 
considerable  dimensions.  Such  skeletons  are  some- 
times great  plates,  many  feet  long  and  several  feet  in 
thickness ;  or  they  may  form  huge  half  globes,  like  the 
brainstone  corals,  or  may  reach  the  magnitude  of  stout 
shrubs  or  even  small  trees.  There  is  reason  to  believe 
that  such  masses  as  these  take  a  long  time  to  form,  and 
hence  that  the  age  a  polype  tree,  or  polype  turf,  may 
attain,  may  be  considerable.  But,  sooner  or  later,  the 
coral  polypes,  like  all  other  things,  die;  the  soft  flesh 
decays,  while  the  skeleton  is  left  as  a  stony  mass  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  where  it  retains  its  integrity  for  a 


122  ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

longer  or  a  shorter  time,  according  as  its  position  affords 
more  or  less  protection  from  the  wear  and  tear  of  the 
waves. 

The  polypes  which  give  rise  to  the  white  coral  are 
found,  as  has  been  said,  in  the  seas  of  all  parts  of  the 
world ;  but  in  the  temperate  and  cold  oceans  they  are 
scattered  and  comparatively  small  in  size,  so  that  the 
skeletons  of  those  which  die  do  not  accumulate  in  any 
considerable  quantity.  But  it  is  otherwise  in  the  greater 
part  of  the  ocean  which  lies  in  the  warmer  parts  of  the 
world,  comprised  within  a  distance  of  about  eighteen 
hundred  miles  on  each  side  of  the  equator.  Within  the 
zone  thus  bounded,  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  ocean 
is  inhabited  by  coral  polypes,  which  not  only  form  very 
strong  and  large  skeletons,  but  associate  together  into 
great  masses,  like  the  thickets  and  the  meadow  turf, 
or,  better  still,  the  accumulations  of  peat,  to  which 
plants  give  rise  on  dry  land.  These  masses  of  stony 
matter,  heaped  up  beneath  the  waters  of  the  ocean, 
become  as  dangerous  to  mariners  as  so  much  ordinary 
rock,  and  to  these,  as  to  the  common  rock  ridges,  the 
seaman  gives  the  name  of  "  reefs." 

Such  coral  reefs  cover  many  thousand  square  miles  in 
the  Pacific  and  in  the  Indian  Oceans.  There  is  one  reef, 
or  rather  great  series  of  reefs,  called  the  Barrier  Reef, 
which  stretches,  almost  continuously,  for  more  than 
eleven  hundred  miles  off  the  east  coast  of  Australia. 
Multitudes  of  the  islands  in  the  Pacific  are  either  reefs 
themselves,  or  are  surrounded  by  reefs.  The  Red  Sea 
is  in  many  parts  almost  a  maze  of  such  reefs,  and  they 
abound  no  less  in  the  West  Indies,  along  the  coast  of 
Florida,  and  even  as  far  north  as  the  Bahama  Islands. 
But  it  is  a  very  remarkable  circumstance  that,  within 
the  area  of  what  we  may  call  the  "coral  zone,"  there 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  123 

are  no  coral  reefs  upon  the  west  coast  of  America,  nor 
upon  the  west  coast  of  Africa ;  and  it  is  a  general  fact 
that  the  reefs  are  interrupted,  or  absent,  opposite  the 
mouths  of  great  rivers.  The  causes  of  this  apparent 
caprice  in  the  distribution  of  coral  reefs  are  not  far  to 
seek.  The  polypes  which  fabricate  them  require  for 
their  vigorous  growth  a  temperature  which  must  not 
fall  below  68°  Fahrenheit  all  the  year  round,  and  this 
temperature  is  only  to  be  found  within  the  distance  on 
each  side  of  the  equator  which  has  been  mentioned,  or 
thereabouts.  But  even  within  the  coral  zone  this  degree 
of  warmth  is  not  everywhere  to  be  had.  On  the  west 
coast  of  America,  and  on  the  corresponding  coast  of 
Africa,  the  currents  of  cold  water  from  the  icy  regions 
which  surround  the  South  Pole  set  northward,  and  it 
appears  to  be  due  to  their  cooling  influence  that  the  sea 
in  these  regions  is  free  from  the  reef  builders.  Again, 
the  coral  polypes  cannot  live  in  water  which  is  rendered 
brackish  by  floods  from  the  land,  or  which  is  perturbed 
by  mud  from  the  same  source,  and  hence  it  is  that  they 
cease  to  exist  opposite  the  mouths  of  rivers,  which 
damage  them  in  both  these  ways. 

Such  is  the  general  distribution  of  the  reef-building 
corals,  but  there  are  some  very  interesting  and  singular 
circumstances  to  be  observed  in  the  conformation  of 
the  reefs,  when  we  consider  them  individually.  The 
reefs,  in  fact,  are  of  three  different  kinds ;  some  of  them 
stretch  out  from  the  shore,  almost  like  a  prolongation 
of  the  beach,  covered  only  by  shallow  water,  and  in  the 
case  of  an  island,  surrounding  it  like  a  fringe  of  no  con- 
siderable breadth.  These  are  termed  "fringing  reefs." 
Others  are  separated  by  a  channel  which  may  attain  a 
width  of  many  miles,  and  a  depth  of  twenty  or  thirty 
fathoms  or  more,  from  the  nearest  land ;  and  when  this 


124          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

land  is  an  island,  the  reef  surrounds  it  like  a  low  wall, 
and  the  sea  between  the  reef  and  the  land  is,  as  it  were, 
a  moat  inside  this  wall.  Such  reefs  as  these  are  called 
"encircling"  when  they  surround  an  island;  and  "bar- 
jier"  reefs,  when  they  stretch  parallel  with  the  coast 
of  a  continent.  In  both  these  cases  there  is  ordinary 
dry  land  inside  the  reef,  and  separated  from  it  only  by 
a  narrower  or  a  wider,  a  shallower  or  a  deeper,  space  of 
sea,  which  is  called  a  "lagoon,"  or  "inner  passage." 
But  there  is  a  third  kind  of  reef,  of  very  common  occur- 
rence in  the  Pacific  and  Indian  Oceans,  which  goes  by 
the  name  of  "  atoll."  This  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
an  encircling  reef,  without  anything  to  encircle;  or,  in 
other  words,  without  an  island  in  the  middle  of  its 
lagoon.  The  atoll  has  exactly  the  appearance  of  a 
vast,  irregularly  oval,  or  circular,  breakwater,  enclosing 
smooth  water  in  its  midst.  The  depth  of  the  water  in 
the  lagoon  rarely  exceeds  twenty  or  thirty  fathoms,  but, 
outside  the  reef,  it  deepens  with  great  rapidity  to  two 
hundred  or  three  hundred  fathoms.  The  depth  imme- 
diately outside  the  barrier,  or  encircling,  reefs,  may  also 
be  very  considerable ;  but,  at  the  outer  edge  of  a  fringing 
reef,  it  does  not  amount  usually  to  more  than  twenty  or 
twenty-five  fathoms ;  in  other  words,  from  one  hundred 
and  twenty  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 

Thus,  if  the  water  of  the  ocean  should  be  suddenly 
drained  away,  we  should  see  the  atolls  rising  from  the 
sea-bed  like  vast  truncated  cones,  and  resembling  so 
many  volcanic  craters,  except  that  their  sides  would  be 
steeper  than  those  of  an  ordinary  volcano.  In  the  case 
of  the  encircling  reefs,  the  cone,  with  the  enclosed  island, 
would  look  like  Vesuvius  with  Monte  Xuovo  within 
the  old  crater  of  Somma ;  while,  finally,  the  island  with 
a  fringing  reef  would  have  the  appearance  of  an  ordi- 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  125 

nary  hill,  or  mountain,  girded  by  a  vast  parapet,  within 
which  would  lie  a  shallow  moat.  And  the  dry  bed  of 
the  Pacific  might  afford  grounds  for  an  inhabitant  of 
the  moon  to  speculate  upon  the  extraordinary  sub- 
terranean activity  to  which  these  vast  and  numerous 
"craters"  bore  witness! 

When  the  structure  of  a  fringing  reef  is  investigated, 
the  bottom  of  the  lagoon  is  found  to  be  covered  with 
fine  whitish  mud,  which  results  from  the  breaking  up 
of  the  dead  corals.  Upon  this  muddy  floor  there  lie, 
here  and  there,  growing  corals,  or  occasionally  great 
blocks  of  dead  coral,  which  have  been  torn  by  storms 
from  the  outer  edge  of  the  reef,  and  washed  into  the 
lagoon.  Shellfish  and  worms  of  various  kinds  abound ; 
and  fish,  some  of  which  prey  upon  the  coral,  sport  in 
the  deeper  pools.  But  the  corals  which  are  to  be  seen 
growing  in  the  shallow  waters  of  the  lagoon  are  of  a 
different  kind  from  those  which  abound  on  the  outer 
edge  of  the  reef,  and  of  which  the  reef  is  built  up.  Close 
to  the  seaward  edge  of  the  reef,  over  which,  even  in 
calm  weather,  a  surf  almost  always  breaks,  the  coral 
rock  is  encrusted  with  a  thick  coat  of  a  singular  vege- 
table organism,  which  contains  a  great  deal  of  lime  — 
the  so-called  Nullipora.  Beyond  this,  in  the  part  of  the 
edge  of  the  reef  which  is  always  covered  by  the  breaking 
waves,  the  living,  true,  reef-polypes  make  their  appear- 
ance; and,  in  different  forms,  coat  the  steep  seaward 
face  of  the  reef  to  a  depth  of  one  hundred  or  even  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Beyond  this  depth  the  sounding- 
lead  rests,  not  upon  the  wall-like  face  of  the  reef,  but 
on  the  ordinary  shelving  sea-bottom.  And  the  distance 
to  which  a  fringing  reef  extends  from  the  land  corre- 
sponds with  that  at  which  the  sea  has  a  depth  of  twenty 
or  five-and-twenty  fathoms. 


126          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

If,  as  we  have  supposed,  the  sea  could  be  suddenly 
withdrawn  from  around  an  island  provided  with  a 
fringing  reef,  such  as  the  Mauritius,  the  reef  would 
present  the  aspect  of  a  terrace,  its  seaward  face,  one 
hundred  feet  or  more  high,  blooming  with  the  animal 
flowers  of  the  coral,  while  its  surface  would  be  hol- 
lowed out  into  a  shallow  and  irregular  moat-like  exca- 
vation. 

The  coral  mud,  which  occupies  the  bottom  of  the 
lagoon,  and  with  which  all  the  interstices  of  the  coral 
skeletons  which  accumulate  to  form  the  reef  are  filled 
up,  does  not  proceed  from  the  washing  action  of  the 
waves  alone;  innumerable  fishes,  and  other  creatures 
which  prey  upon  the  coral,  add  a  very  important  con- 
tribution of  finely-triturated  calcareous  matter ;  and  the 
corals  and  mud  becoming  incorporated  together, 
gradually  harden  and  give  rise  to  a  sort  of  limestone 
rock,  which  may  vary  a  good  deal  in  texture.  Some- 
times it  remains  friable  and  chalky,  but,  more  often, 
the  infiltration  of  water,  charged  with  carbonic  acid, 
dissolves  some  of  the  calcareous  matter,  and  deposits 
it  elsewhere  in  the  interstices  of  the  nascent  rock,  thus 
glueing  and  cementing  the  particles  together  into  a 
hard  mass ;  or  it  may  even  dissolve  the  carbonate  of  lime 
more  extensively,  and  re-deposit  it  in  a  crystalline 
form.  On  the  beach  of  the  lagoon,  where  the  coral 
sand  is  washed  into  layers  by  the  action  of  the  waves, 
its  grains  become  thus  fused  together  into  strata  of  a 
limestone,  so  hard  that  they  ring  when  struck  with  a 
hammer,  and  inclined  at  a  gentle  angle,  corresponding 
with  that  of  the  surface  of  the  beach.  The  hard  parts 
of  the  many  animals  which  live  upon  the  reef  become 
imbedded  in  this  coral  limestone,  so  that  a  block  may 
be  full  of  shells  of  bivalves  and  univalves,  or  of  sea- 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  1(27 

urchins ;  and  even  sometimes  encloses  the  eggs  of  tur- 
tles in  a  state  of  petrification.  The  active  and  vigorous 
growth  of  the  reef  goes  on  only  at  the  seaward  margins, 
where  the  polypes  are  exposed  to  tlie  wash  of  the  surf, 
and  are  thereby  provided  with  an  abundant  supply  of 
air  and  of  food.  The  interior  portion  of  the  reef  may 
be  regarded  as  almost  wholly  an  accumulation  of  dead 
skeletons.  Where  a  river  comes  down  from  the  land 
there  is  a  break  in  the  reef,  for  the  reasons  which  have 
been  already  mentioned. 

The  origin  and  mode  of  formation  of  a  fringing  reef, 
such  as  that  just  described,  are  plain  enough.  The 
embryos  of  the  coral  polypes  have  fixed  themselves 
upon  the  submerged  shore  of  the  island,  as  far  out  as 
they  could  live,  namely,  to  a  depth  of  twenty  or  twenty- 
five  fathoms.  One  generation  has  succeeded  another, 
building  itself  up  upon  the  dead  skeletons  of  its  prede- 
cessor. The  mass  has  been  consolidated  by  the  in- 
filtration of  coral  mud,  and  hardened  by  partial  solu- 
tion and  redeposition,  until  a  great  rampart  of  coral 
rock  one  hundred  or  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high 
on  its  seaward  face  has  been  formed  all  round  the  is- 
land, with  only  such  gaps  as  result  from  the  outflow  of 
rivers,  in  the  place  of  sally-ports. 

The  structure  of  the  rocky  accumulation  in  the  en- 
circling reefs  and  in  the  atolls  is  essentially  the  same 
as  in  the  fringing  reef.  But,  in  addition  to  the  differ- 
ences of  depth  inside  and  out,  they  present  some  other 
peculiarities.  These  reefs,  and  especially  the  atolls, 
are  usually  interrupted  at  one  part  of  their  circumfer- 
ence, and  this  part  is  always  situated  on  the  leeward 
side  of  the  reef,  or  that  which  is  the  more  sheltered  side. 
Now,  as  all  these  reefs  are  situated  within  the  region 
in  which  the  tradewinds  prevail,  it  follows  that,  on  the 


128          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

north  side  of  the  equator,  where  the  trade-wind  is  a 
northeasterly  wind,  the  opening  of  the  reef  is  on  the 
southwest  side:  while  in  the  southern  hemisphere, 
where  the  trade-winds  blow  from  the  southeast,  the 
opening  lies  to  the  northwest.  The  curious  practical 
result  follows  from  this  structure,  that  the  lagoons  to 
these  reefs  really  form  admirable  harbours,  if  a  ship 
can  only  get  inside  them.  But  the  main  difference 
between  the  encircling  reefs  and  the  atolls,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  fringing  reefs  on  the  other,  lies  in  the 
fact  of  the  much  greater  depth  of  water  on  the  seaward 
faces  of  the  former.  As  a  consequence  of  this  fact,  the 
whole  of  this  face  is  not,  as  it  is  in  the  case  of  the 
fringing  reef,  covered  with  living  coral  polypes.  For, 
as  we  have  seen,  these  polypes  cannot  live  at  a  greater 
depth  than  about  twenty-five  fathoms;  and  actual 
observation  has  shown  that  while,  down  to  this  depth, 
the  sounding-lead  will  bring  up  branches  of  live  coral 
from  the  outer  wall  of  such  a  reef,  at  a  greater  depth  it 
fetches  to  the  surface  nothing  but  dead  coral  and  coral 
sand.  We  must,  therefore,  picture  to  ourselves  an 
atoll,  or  an  encircling  reef,  as  fringed  for  one  hundred 
feet,  or  more,  from  its  summit,  with  coral  polypes 
busily  engaged  in  fabricating  coral;  while,  below  this 
comparatively  narrow  belt,  its  surface  is  a  bare  and 
smooth  expanse  of  coral  sand,  supported  upon  and 
within  a  core  of  coral  limestone.  Thus,  if  the  bed  of  the 
Pacific  were  suddenly  laid  bare,  as  was  just  now  sup- 
posed, the  appearance  of  the  reef-mountains  would  be 
exactly  the  reverse  of  that  presented  by  many  high 
mountains  on  land.  For  these  are  white  with  snow  at 
the  top,  while  their  bases  are  clothed  with  an  abundant 
and  gaudily-coloured  vegetation.  But  the  coral  cones 
would  look  grey  and  barren  below,  while  their  summits 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS          129 

would  be  gay  with  a  richly-coloured  parterre  of  flower- 
like  coral  polypes. 

The  practical  difficulties  of  sounding  upon,  and  of 
bringing  up  portions  of,  the  seaward  face  of  an  atoll  or 
of  an  encircling  reef,  are  so  great,  in  consequence  of  the 
constant  and  dangerous  swell  which  sets  towards  it, 
that  no  exact  information  concerning  the  depth  to 
which  the  reefs  are  composed  of  coral  has  yet  been 
obtained.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt,  however,  that 
the  reef-cone  has  the  same  structure  from  its  summit 
to  its  base,  and  that  its  sea-wall  is  throughout  mainly 
composed  of  dead  coral. 

And  now  arises  a  serious  difficulty.  If  the  coral  pol- 
ypes cannot  live  at  a  greater  depth  than  one  hundred  or 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  how  can  they  have  built  up 
the  base  of  the  reef- cone,  which  may  be  two  thousand 
feet,  or  more,  below  the  surface  of  the  sea  ? 

In  order  to  get  over  this  objection,  it  was  at  one  time 
supposed  that  the  reef-building  polypes  had  settled 
upon  the  summits  of  a  chain  of  submarine  mountains. 
But  what  is  there  in  physical  geography  to  justify  the 
assumption  of  the  existence  of  a  chain  of  mountains 
stretching  for  one  thousand  miles  or  more,  and  so 
nearly  of  the  same  height,  that  none  should  rise  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  nor  fall  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
below  that  level  ? 

How,  again,  on  this  hypothesis,  are  atolls  to  be  ac- 
counted for,  unless,  as  some  have  done,  we  take  refuge 
in  the  wild  supposition  that  every  atoll  corresponds 
with  the  crater  of  a  submarine  volcano  ?  And  what  ex- 
planation does  it  afford  of  the  fact  that,  in  some  parts 
of  the  ocean,  only  atolls  and  encircling  reefs  occur, 
while  others  present  none  but  fringing  reefs  ? 

These  and  other  puzzling  facts  remained  insoluble 


130          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

until  the  publication,  in  the  year  1840,  of  Mr.  Darwin's 
famous  work  on  coral  reefs ;  in  which  a  key  was  given 
to  all  the  difficult  problems  connected  with  the  subject, 
and  every  difficulty  was  shown  to  be  capable  of  solution 
by  deductive  reasoning  from  a  happy  combination 
of  certain  well-established  geological  and  biological 
truths.  Mr.  Darwin,  in  fact,  showed  that,  so  long  as 
the  level  of  the  sea  remains  unaltered  in  any  area  in 
which  coral  reefs  are  being  formed,  or  if  the  level  of  the 
sea  relatively  to  that  of  the  land  is  falling,  the  only 
reefs  which  can  be  formed  are  fringing  reefs.  While 
if,  on  the  contrary,  the  level  of  the  sea  is  rising  rela- 
tively to  that  of  the  land,  at  a  rate  not  faster  than  that 
at  which  the  upward  growth  of  the  coral  can  keep  pace 
with  it,  the  reef  will  gradually  pass  from  the  condition 
of  a  fringing,  into  that  of  an  encircling  or  barrier  reef. 
And,  finally,  that  if  the  relative  level  of  the  sea  rise  so 
much  that  the  encircled  land  is  completely  submerged, 
the  reef  must  necessarily  pass  into  the  condition  of  an 
atoll. 

For,  suppose  the  relative  level  of  the  sea  to  remain 
stationary,  after  a  fringing  reef  has  reached  that  dis- 
tance from  the  land  at  which  the  depth  of  water 
amounts  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Then  the  reef 
cannot  extend  seaward  by  the  migration  of  coral  germs, 
because  these  coral  germs  would  find  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  to  be  too  deep  for  them  to  live  in.  And  the  only 
manner  in  which  the  reef  could  extend  outwards, 
would  be  by  the  gradual  accumulation,  at  the  foot  of 
its  seaward  face,  of  a  talus  of  coral  fragments  torn  off 
by  the  violence  of  the  waves,  which  talus  might,  in 
course  of  time,  become  high  enough  to  bring  its  upper 
surface  within  the  limits  of  coral  growth,  and  in  that 
manner  provide  a  sort  of  factitious  sea-bottom  upon 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS    131 

which  the  coral  embryos  might  perch.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  level  of  the  sea  were  slowly  and  gradually 
lowered,  it  is  clear  that  the  parts  of  its  bottom  origi- 
nally beyond  the  limit  of  coral  growth  would  gradually 
be  brought  within  the  required  distance  of  the  surface, 
and  thus  the  reef  might  be  indefinitely  extended.  But 
this  process  would  give  rise  neither  to  an  encircling  reef 
nor  to  an  atoll,  but  to  a  broad  belt  of  upheaved  coral 
rock,  increasing  the  dimensions  of  the  dry  land,  and 
continuous  seawards  with  the  fresh  fringing  reef. 

Suppose,  however,  that  the  sea-level  rose  instead  of 
falling,  at  the  same  slow  and  gradual  rate  at  which  we 
know  it  to*  be  rising  in  some  parts  of  the  world,  —  not 
more,  in  fact,  than  a  few  inches,  or,  at  most,  a  foot  or 
two,  in  a  hundred  years.  Then,  while  the  reef  would 
be  unable  to  extend  itself  seaward,  the  sea-bottom  out- 
side it  being  gradually  more  and  more  removed  from 
the  depth  at  which  the  life  of  the  coral  polypes  is  pos- 
sible, it  would  be  able  to  grow  upwards  as  fast  as  the 
sea  rose.  But  the  growth  would  take  place  almost  ex- 
clusively around  the  circumference  of  the  reef,  this 
being  the  only  region  in  which  the  coral  polypes  would 
find  the  conditions  favourable  for  their  existence.  The 
bottom  of  the  lagoon  would  be  raised,  in  the  main,  only 
by  the  coral  debris  and  coral  mud,  formed  in  the  manner 
already  described;  consequently,  the  margins  of  the 
reef  would  rise  faster  than  the  bottom,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  lagoon  would  constantly  become  deeper. 
And,  at  the  same  time,  it  would  gradually  increase  in 
breadth;  as  the  rising  sea,  covering  more  of  the  land, 
would  occupy  a  wider  space  between  the  edge  of  the 
reef  and  what  remained  of  the  land.  Thus  the  rising 
sea  would  eventually  convert  a  large  island  with  a 
fringing  reef  into  a  small  island  surrounded  by  an 


132          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

encircling  reef.  And  it  will  be  obvious  that  when  the 
rising  of  the  sea  has  gone  so  far  as  completely  to  cover 
the  highest  points  of  the  island,  the  reef  will  have 
passed  into  the  condition  of  an  atoll. 

But  how  is  it  possible  that  the  relative  level  of  the 
land  and  sea  should  be  altered  to  this  extent  ?  Clearly, 
only  in  one  of  two  ways :  either  the  sea  must  have  risen 
over  those  areas  which  are  now  covered  by  atolls  and 
encircling  reefs ;  or,  the  land  upon  which  the  sea  rests 
must  have  been  depressed  to  a  corresponding  extent. 

If  the  sea  has  risen,  its  rise  must  have  taken  place 
over  the  whole  world  simultaneously,  and  it  must  have 
risen  to  the  same  height  over  all  parts  of  the  coral  zone. 
Grounds  have  been  shown  for  the  belief  that  the  general 
level  of  the  sea  may  have  been  different  at  different 
times ;  it  has  been  suggested,  for  example,  that  the  ac- 
cumulation of  ice  about  the  poles  during  one  of  the 
cold  periods  of  the  earth's  history  necessarily  implies 
a  diminution  in  the  volume  of  the  sea  proportioned  to 
the  amount  of  its  water  thus  permanently  locked  up  in 
the  Arctic  and  Antarctic  ice-cellars ;  while,  in  the  warm 
periods,  the  greater  or  less  disappearance  of  the  polar 
ice-cap  implies  a  corresponding  addition  of  water  to 
the  ocean.  And  no  doubt  this  reasoning  must  be  ad- 
mitted to  be  sound  in  principle ;  though  it  is  very  hard 
to  say  what  practical  effect  the  additions  and  subtrac- 
tions thus  made  have  had  on  the  level  of  the  ocean; 
inasmuch  as  such  additions  and  subtractions  might  be 
either  intensified  or  nullified,  by  contemporaneous 
changes  in  the  level  of  the  land.  And  no  one  has  yet 
shown  that  any  such  great  melting  of  polar  ice,  and 
consequent  raising  of  the  level  of  the  water  of  the  ocean, 
has  taken  place  since  the  existing  atolls  began  to  be 
formed. 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS          133 

In  the  absence  of  any  evidence  that  the  sea  has  ever 
risen  to  the  extent  required  to  give  rise  to  the  encircling 
reefs  and  the  atolls,  Mr.  Darwin  adopted  the  opposite 
hypothesis,  viz.,  that  the  land  has  undergone  extensive 
and  slow  depression  in  those  localities  in  which  these 
structures  exist. 

It  seems,  at  first,  a  startling  paradox,  to  suppose  that 
the  land  is  less  fixed  than  the  sea ;  but  that  such  is  the 
case  is  the  uniform  testimony  of  geology.  Beds  of  sand- 
stone or  limestone,  thousands  of  feet  thick,  and  all  full 
of  marine  remains,  occur  in  various  parts  of  the  earth's 
surface,  and  prove,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  when  these 
beds  were  formed,  that  portion  of  the  sea-bottom  which 
they  then  occupied  underwent  a  slow  and  gradual 
depression  to  a  distance  which  cannot  have  been  less 
than  the  thickness  of  those  beds,  and  may  have  been 
very  much  greater.  In  supposing,  therefore,  that  the 
great  areas  of  the  Pacific  and  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  over 
which  atolls  and  encircling  reefs  are  found  scattered, 
have  undergone  a  depression  of  some  hundreds,  or,  it 
may  be,  thousands  of  feet,  Mr.  Darwin  made  a  suppo- 
sition which  had  nothing  forced  or  improbable,  but 
was  entirely  in  accordance  with  what  we  know  to  have 
taken  place  over  similarly  extensive  areas,  in  other 
periods  of  the  world's  history.  But  Mr.  Darwin  sub- 
jected his  hypothesis  to  an  ingenious  indirect  test.  If 
his  view  be  correct,  it  is  clear  that  neither  atolls,  nor 
encircling  reefs,  should  be  found  in  those  portions  of 
the  ocean  in  which  we  have  reason  to  believe,  on  inde- 
pendent grounds,  that  the  sea-bottom  has  long  been 
either  stationary,  or  slowly  rising.  Now  it  is  known 
that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  level  of  the  land  is  either 
stationary,  or  is  undergoing  a  slow  upheaval,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  active  volcanoes;  and,  therefore, 


134          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

neither  atolls  nor  encircling  reefs  ought  to  be  found  in 
regions  in  which  volcanoes  are  numerous  and  active. 
And  this  turns  out  to  be  the  case.  Appended  to  Mr. 
Darwin's  great  work  on  coral  reefs,  there  is  a  map  on 
which  atolls  and  encircling  reefs  are  indicated  by  one 
colour,  fringing  reefs  by  another,  and  active  volcanoes 
by  a  third.  And  it  is  at  once  obvious  that  the  lines  of 
active  volcanoes  lie  around  the  margins  of  the  areas 
occupied  by  the  atolls  and  the  encircling  reefs.  It  is 
exactly  as  if  the  upheaving  volcanic  agencies  had  lifted 
up  the  edges  of  these  great  areas,  while  their  centres  had 
undergone  a  corresponding  depression.  An  atoll  area 
may,  in  short,  be  pictured  as  a  kind  of  basin,  the  mar- 
gins of  which  have  been  pushed  up  by  the  subterranean 
forces,  to  which  the  craters  of  the  volcanoes  have,  at 
intervals,  given  vent. 

Thus  we  must  imagine  the  area  of  the  Pacific  now 
covered  by  the  Polynesian  Archipelago,  as  having 
been,  at  some  former  time,  occupied  by  large  islands, 
or,  may  be,  by  a  great  continent,  with  the  ordinarily 
diversified  surface  of  plain,  and  hill,  and  mountain 
chain.  The  shores  of  this  great  land  were  doubtless 
fringed  by  coral  reefs;  and,  as  it  slowly  underwent 
depression,  the  hilly  regions,  converted  into  islands, 
became,  at  first,  surrounded  by  fringing  reefs,  and  then, 
as  depression  went  on,  these  became  converted  into 
encircling  reefs,  and  these,  finally,  into  atolls,  until  a 
maze  of  reefs  and  coral-girdled  islets  took  the  place 
of  the  original  land  masses. 

Thus  the  atolls  and  the  encircling  reefs  furnish  us 
with  clear,  though  indirect,  evidence  of  changes  in  the 
physical  geography  of  large  parts  of  the  earth's  surface ; 
and  even,  as  my  lamented  friend,  the  late  Professor 
Jukes,  has  suggested,  give  us  indications  of  the  manner 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  135 

in  which  some  of  the  most  puzzling  facts  connected 
with  the  distribution  of  animals  have  been  brought 
about.  For  example,  Australia  and  New  Guinea  are 
separated  by  Torres  Straits,  a  broad  belt  of  sea  one 
hundred  or  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  wide.  Nev- 
ertheless, there  is  in  many  respects  -a  curious  resem- 
blance between  the  land  animals  which  inhabit  New 
Guinea  and  the  land  animals  which  inhabit  Australia. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  the  marine  shellfish  which  are 
found  in  the  shallow  waters  of  the  shores  of  New 
Guinea  are  quite  different  from  those  which  are  met 
with  upon  the  coasts  of  Australia.  Now,  the  eastern 
end  of  Torres  Straits  is  full  of  atolls,  which,  in  fact, 
form  the  northern  termination  of  the  Great  Barrier 
Reef  which  skirts  the  eastern  coast  of  Australia.  It 
follows,  therefore,  that  the  eastern  end  of  Torres 
Straits  is  an  area  of  depression,  and  it  is  very  possible, 
and  on  many  grounds  highly  probable,  that,  in  former 
times,  Australia  and  New  Guinea  were  directly  con- 
nected together,  and  that  Torres  Straits  did  not  exist. 
If  this  were  the  case,  the  existence  of  cassowaries  and  of 
marsupial  quadrupeds,  both  in  New  Guinea  and  in 
Australia,  becomes  intelligible;  while  the  difference 
between  the  littoral  molluscs  of  the  north  and  the 
south  shores  of  Torres  Straits  is  readily  explained  by 
the  great  probability  that,  when  the  depression  in 
question  took  place,  and  what  was,  at  first,  an  arm  of 
the  sea  became  converted  into  a  strait  separating  Aus- 
tralia from  New  Guinea,  the  northern  shore  of  this 
new  sea  became  tenanted  with  marine  animals  from 
the  north,  while  the  southern  shore  was  peopled  by 
immigrants  from  the  already  existing  marine  Australian 
fauna. 

Inasmuch  as  the  growth  of  the  reef  depends  upon 


136  ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

that  of  successive  generations  of  coral  polypes,  and  as 
each  generation  takes  a  certain  time  to  grow  to  its  full 
size,  and  can  only  separate  its  calcareous  skeleton  from 
the  water  in  which  it  lives  at  a  certain  rate,  it  is  clear 
that  the  reefs  are  records  not  only  of  changes  in  physical 
geography,  but  of  the  lapse  of  time.  It  is  by  no  means 
easy,  however,  to  estimate  the  exact  value  of  reef- 
chronology,  and  the  attempts  which  have  been  made  to 
determine  the  rate  at  which  a  reef  grows  vertically 
have  yielded  anything  but  precise  results.  A  cautious 
writer,  Mr.  Dana,  whose  extensive  study  of  corals  and 
coral  reefs  makes  him  an  eminently  competent  judge, 
states  his  conclusion  in  the  following  terms :  — 

"  The  rate  of  growth  of  the  common  branching  mad- 
repore is  not  over  one  and  a  half  inches  a  year.  As  the 
branches  are  open,  this  would  not  be  equivalent  to 
more  than  half  an  inch  in  height  of  solid  coral  for  the 
whole  surface  covered  by  the  madrepore;  and,  as  they 
are  also  porous,  to  not  over  three-eighths  of  an  inch  of 
solid  limestone.  But  a  coral  plantation  has  large  bare 
patches  without  corals,  and  the  coral  sands  are  widely 
distributed  by  currents,  part  of  them  to  depths  over  one 
hundred  feet  where  there  are  no  living  corals ;  not  more 
than  one-sixth  of  the  surface  of  a  reef  region  is,  in  fact, 
covered  with  growing  species.  This  reduces  the  three- 
eighths  to  one-sixteenth.  Shells  and  other  organic  relics 
may  contribute  one-fourth  as  much  as  corals.  At  the 
outside,  the  average  upward  increase  of  the  whole  reef- 
ground  per  year  would  not  exceed  one-eighth  of  an 
inch. 

"  Now  some  reefs  are  at  least  two  thousand  feet  thick, 
which  at  one-eighth  of  an   inch  a  year,  corresponds 
to  one  hundred  and  ninety-two  thousand  years."  l 
1  Dana,  Manual  of  Geology,  P-  591. 


ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS          137 

Halve,  or  quarter,  this  estimate  if  you  will,  in  order 
to  He  certain  of  erring  upon  the  right  side,  and  still 
theftb  remains  a  prodigious  period  during  which  the 
ancestors  of  existing  coral  polypes  have  been  undis- 
turJSedly  at  work;  and  during  which,  therefore,  the 
climatal  conditions  over  the  coral  area  must  have  been 
much  what  they  are  now. 

^.nd  all  this  lapse  of  time  has  occurred  within  the 
most  recent  period  of  the  history  of  the  earth.  The 
remains  of  reefs  formed  by  coral  polypes  of  different 
k*ftids  from  those  which  exist  now,  enter  largely  into 
the  composition  of  the  limestones  of  the  Jurassic  pe- 
riod ;  and  still  more  widely  different  coral  polypes  have 
contributed  their  quota  to  the  vast  thickness  of  the 
carboniferous  and  Devonian  strata.  Then  as  regards 
the  latter  group  of  rocks  in  America,  the  high  authority 
already  quoted  tells  us :  — 

"The  Upper  Helderberg  period  is  eminently  the 
coral  reef  period  of  the  palaeozoic  ages.  Many  of  the 
rocks  abound  in  coral,  and  are  as  truly  coral  reefs  as 
the  modern  reefs  of  the  Pacific.  The  corals  are  some- 
times standing  on  the  rocks  in  the  position  they  had 
when  growing :  others  are  lying  in  fragments,  as  they 
were  broken  and  heaped  by  the  waves ;  and  others  were 
reduced  to  a  compact  limestone  by  the  finer  trituration 
before  consolidation  into  rock.  This  compact  variety 
is  the  most  common  kind  among  the  coral  reef  rocks 
of  the  present  seas ;  and  it  often  contains  but  few  dis- 
tinct fossils,  although  formed  in  water  that  abounded 
in  life.  At  the  fall  of  the  Ohio,  near  Louisville,  there  is 
a  magnificent  display  of  the  old  reef.  Hemispherical 
Favosites,  five  or  six  feet  in  diameter,  lie  there  nearly 
as  perfect  as  when  they  were  covered  by  their  flower- 
like  polypes;  and  besides  these,  there  are  various 


138          ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS 

branching  corals,  and  a  profusion  of  CyatJwphyllia,  or 
cup-corals."  1 

Thus,  in  all  the  great  periods  of  the  earth's  history 
of  which  we  know  anything,  a  part  of  the  then  living 
matter  has  had  the  form  of  polypes,  competent  to  sepa- 
rate from  the  water  of  the  sea  the  carbonate  of  lime 
necessary  for  their  own  skeletons.  Grain  by  grain,  and 
particle  by  particle,  they  have  built  up  vast  masses  of 
rock,  the  thickness  of  which  is  measured  by  hundreds 
of  feet,  and  their  area  by  thousands  of  square  miles. 
The  slow  oscillations  of  the  crust  of  the  earth,  pro- 
ducing great  changes  in  the  distribution  of  land  and 
water,  have  often  obliged  the  living  matter  of  the  coral- 
builders  to  shift  the  locality  of  its  operations ;  and,  by 
variation  and  adaptation  to  these  modifications  of  con- 
dition, its  forms  have  as  often  changed.  The  work  it 
has  done  in  the  past  is,  for  the  most  part,  swept  away, 
but  fragments  remain,  and,  if  there  were  no  other  evi- 
dence, suffice  to  prove  the  general  constancy  of  the 
operations  of  Nature  in  this  world,  through  periods  of 
almost  inconceivable  duration. 

1  Dana,  Manual  of  Geology,  p.  272. 


NOTES 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

PAGE! 

Autobiography  :  Huxley's  account  of  this  sketch,  written 
in  1889,  is  as  follows:  "  A  man  who  is  bringing  out  a  series 
of  portraits  of  celebrities,  with  a  sketch  of  their  career  at- 
tached, has  bothered  me  out  of  my  life  for  something  to  go 
with  my  portrait,  and  to  escape  the  abominable  bad  taste  of 
some  of  the  notices,  I  have  done  that." 

pre-Boswellian  epoch:  the  time  before  Boswell.  James 
Boswell  (1740-1795)  wrote  the  famous  Life  of  Samuel  John- 
son. Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  declares  that  this  book  "  became  the 
first  specimen  of  a  new  literary  type."  "  It  is  a  full-length 
portrait  of  a  man's  domestic  life  with  enough  picturesque 
detail  to  enable  us  to  see  him  through  the  eyes  of  private 
friendship.  ..."  A  number  of  biographers  since  Boswell 
have  imitated  his  method;  and  Leslie  Stephen  believes 
that  "  we  owe  it  in  some  degree  to  his  example  that  we 
have  such  delightful  books  as  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott  or 
Mr.  Trevelyan's  Life  of  Macaulay." 

"  Bene  qui  latuit,  bene  vixit "  :  from  Ovid.  He  who  has 
kept  himself  well  hidden,  has  lived  well. 

PAGE  4 

Prince  George  of  Cambridge  :  the  grandson  of  King 
George  III,  second  Duke  of  Cambridge,  and  Commander- 
in-chief  of  the  British  Army. 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  (1820-1903):  a  celebrated  English 
philosoph2r  and  powerful  advocate  of  the  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion. Spencer  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  profound  think- 
ers of  modern  times.  He  was  one  of  Huxley's  closest  friends. 

PAGE  5 

in  partibus  iiifidelium  :  in  the  domain  of  the  unbelievers. 

PAGES 

"sweet  south  upon  a  bed  of  violets."  Cf.  Twelfth 
Night,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  1.  5. 

O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odour. 

For  the  reading  "  sweet  south  "  instead  of  "  sweet  sound," 
see  Rolfe's  edition  of  Twelfth  Night. 
PAGE  7 

"  Lehrjahre  "  :  apprenticeship. 


NOTES 

Charing  Cross  School  of  Medicine  :  a  school  connected 
with  the  Charing  Cross  Hospital  in  the  Strand,  London. 

PAGE  9 

Nelson  :  Horatio  Nelson,  a  celebrated  English  Admiral 
born  in  Norfolk,  England,  1758,  and  died  on  board  the  Vic- 
tory at  Trafalgar,  1805.  It  was  before  the  battle  off  Cape 
Trafalgar  that  Nelson  hoisted  his  famous  signal,  "  England 
expects  every  man  will  do  his  duty."  Cf.  Tennyson's  Ode  to 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  stanza  VI,  for  a  famous  tribute  to 
Nelson. 

PAGE  11 

middies:  abbreviated  form  for  midshipmen. 
Suites  a  Buffon  :  sequels  to  Buffon.  Buffon  (1707-1781) 
was  a  French  naturalist  who  wrote  many  volumes  on  science. 
Linnean  Society  :  a  scientific  society  formed  in  1788  un- 
der the  auspices  of  several  fellows  of  the  Royal  Society. 
Royal  Society  :  The  Royal  Society  for  Improving  Nat- 
ural Knowledge;  the  oldest  scientific  society  in  Great  Brit- 
ain, and  one  of  the  oldest  in  Europe.  It  was  founded  by 
Charles  II,  in  1660,  its  nucleus  being  an  association  of  learned 
men  already  in  existence.  It  is  supposed  to  be  identical  with 
the  Invisible  College  which  Boyle  mentions  in  1646.  It  was 
incorporated  under  the  name  of  The  Royal  Society  in  1661. 
The  publications  of  the  Royal  Society  are  called  Philosophi- 
cal Transactions.  The  society  has  close  connection  with  the 
government,  and  has  assisted  the  government  in  various  im- 
portant scientific  undertakings  among  which  may  be  men- 
tioned Parry's  North  Pole  expedition.  The  society  also 
distributes  §20,000  yearly  for  the  promotion  of  scientific 
research. 

PAGE  12 

Rastignac  :  a  character  in  Le  Pere  Goriot.  At  the  close  of 
the  story  Rastignac  says,  "  A  nous  deux,  maintenant "  :  — 
Henceforth  there  is  war  between  us. 

Pere  Goriot :  a  novel  of  Balzac's  with  a  plot  similar  to 
King  Lear. 

Professor  Tyndall  (1820-1893):  a  distinguished  British 
physicist  and  member  of  the  Royal  Society.  He  explored 
with  Huxley  the  glaciers  of  Switzerland.  His  work  in  elec- 
tricity, radiant  heat,  light  and  acoustics  gave  him  a  fore- 
most place  in  science. 

PAGE  13 

Ecclesiastical  spirit :  the  spirit  manifested  by  the  clergy 
of  England  in  Huxley's  time  against  the  truths  of  science. 
The  clergy  considered  scientific  truth  to  be  disastrous  to 
religious  truth.  Huxley's  attitude  toward  the  teaming  of 
religious  truth  is  illuminated  by  this  quotation,  which  he 
uses  to  explain  his  own  position  :  "  I  have  the  fullest  conn- 


NOTES 

dence  that  in  the  reading  and  explaining  of  the  Bible,  what 
the  children  will  be  taught  will  be  the  great  truths  of  Chris- 
tian Life  and  conduct,  which  all  of  us  desire  they  should 
know,  and  that  no  effort  will  be  made  to  cram  into  their 
poor  little  minds,  theological  dogmas  which  their  tender  age 
prevents  them  from  understanding."  Huxley  defines  his  idea 
of  a  church  as  a  place  in  which,  "  week  by  week,  services 
should  be  devoted,  not  to  the  iteration  of  abstract  propositions 
in  theology,  but  to  the  setting  before  men's  minds  of  an  ideal 
of  true,  just  and  pure  living;  a  place  in  which  those  who  are 
weary  of  the  burden  of  daily  cares  should  find  a  moment's 
rest  in  the  contemplation  of  the  higher  life  which  is  possible 
for  all,  though  attained  by  so  few ;  a  place  in  which  the  man 
of  strife  and  of  business  should  have  time  to  think  how 
small,  after  all,  are  the  rewards  he  covets  compared  with 
peace  and  charity." 
PAGE  14 

New  Reformation:  Huxley  writes:  "We  are  in  the  midst 
of  a  gigantic  movement  greater  than  that  which  preceded 
and  produced  the  Reformation,  and  really  only  the  continu- 
ation of  that  movement.  ...  But  this  organization  will  be 
the  work  of  generations  of  men,  and  those  who  further  it 
most  will  be  those  who  teach  men  to  rest  in  no  lie,  and  to 
rest  in  no  verbal  delusion." 


ON  THE   ADVISABLENESS    OF   IMPROVING 
NATURAL   KNOWLEDGE   (1866) 

PAGE  15 

On  the  Advisableness  of  Improving  Natural  Know- 
ledge :  from  Method  and  Results :  also  published  in  Lay 
Sermons,  Addresses  and  Reviews. 

For  the  history  of  the  times  mentioned  in  this  essay,  see 
Green's  Short  History  of  the  English  People. 
The  very  spot  :  St.  Martin's  Borough  Hall  and  Public 
Library,  on  Charing  Cross  Road,  near  Trafalgar  Square. 
Defoe  (1661-1731):  an  English  novelist  and  political  writer. 
On  account  of  his  political  writings  Defoe  was  sentenced 
to  stand  in  the  pillory,  and  to  be  "imprisoned  during  the 
Queen's  pleasure."  During  this  imprisonment  he  wrote 
many  articles.  Later  in  life  he  wrote  Robinson  Crusoe,  The 
Fortunes  and  Misfortunes  of  Moll  Flanders,  Journal  of  the 
Plague  Year,  and  other  books  less  well  known. 

PAGE  17 

unholy  cursing  and  crackling  wit  of  the  Rochesters 
and  Sedleys  :  John  Wilmot,the  second  Earl  of  Rochester, 
and  Sir  Charles  Sedley,were  both  friends  of  Charles  II,  and 
iii 


NOTES 

were  noted  for  biting  wit  and  profligacy.  Green,  in  his 
Short  History  of  the  English  People,  thus  describes  them: 
"  Lord  Rochester  was  a  fashionable  poet,  and  the  titles  of 
some  of  his  poems  are  such  as  no  pen  of  our  day  could  copy. 
Sir  Charles  Sedley  was  a  fashionable  wit,  and  the  foulness 
of  his  words  made  even  the  porters  in  the  Covent  Garden  belt 
him  from  the  balcony  when  he  ventured  to  address  them." 
Laud:  Arch  bishop  of  Canterbury.  Laud  was  born  in  1573,  and 
beheaded  at  London  in  1645.  He  was  throughout  the  reign  of 
Charles  I  a  staunch  supporter  of  the  King.  He  was  im- 
peached by  the  Long  Parliament  in  1640  and  executed  on 
Tower  Hill,  in  1645. 

PAGE  18 

selenography :  the  scientific  study  of  the  moon  with  special 
reference  to  its  physical  condition. 

Torricellian  experiment:  a  reference  to  the  discovery  of  the 
principle  of  the  barometer  by  the  Italian,  Torricelli,  in  1643. 
Sir  Francis  Bacon  (1561-1626):  Bacon  endeavored  to 
'  teach  that  civilization  cannot  be  brought  to  a  high  point 
except  as  man  applies  himself  to  the  study  of  the  secrets  of 
nature,  and  uses  these  discoveries  for  inventions  which  will 
give  him  power  over  his  environment.  The  chief  value  of 
the  work  was  that  it  called  attention  to  the  uses  of  induction 
and  to  the  experimental  study  of  facts.  See  Roger's  A  Stu- 
dent's History  of  Philosophy,  page  243. 

The  learned  Dr.  Wallis  (1616-1703):  Dr.  Wallis  is  re- 
garded as  the  greatest  of  Newton's  predecessors  in  mathe- 
matical history.  His  works  are  numerous  and  are  on  a  great 
variety  of  subjects.  He  was  one  of  the  first  members  of  the 
Royal  Society. 

PAGE  19 

"  New  Philosophy  "  :  Bacon's  ideas  on  science  and  philoso- 
phy as  set  forth  in  his  works. 

Galileo  (1564-1642):  a  famous  Italian  astronomer.  His 
most  noted  work  was  the  construction  of  the  thermome- 
ter and  a  telescope.  He  discovered  the  satellites  of  Jupiter  in 
1610.  In  1610,  also,  he  observed  the  sun's  spots.  His  views 
were  condemned  by  the  Pope  in  1616,  and  in  1633  he  was 
forced  by  the  Inquisition  to  abjure  the  Copernican  theory. 
Royal  Society  :  see  note,  page  11. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac  (1642-1721) :  a  distinguished  natural 
philosopher  of  England.  Newton  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Royal  Society  in  1672.  His  most  important  scientific 
accomplishment  was  the  establishing  of  the  law  of  universal 
gravitation.  The  story  of  the  fall  of  the  apple  was  first  re- 
lated by  Voltaire  to  whom  it  was  given  by  Newton's  niece. 
"  Philosophical  Transactions  "  :  the  publications  of  the 
Royal  Society. 


NOTES 

PAGE  20 

Vesalius  (1514-1564):  a  noted  Belgian  anatomist. 
Harvey  (1578-1657):  an  English  physiologist  and  anato- 
mist. He  is  noted  especially  for  his  discovery  of  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood. 

Schoolmen:  a  term  used  to  designate  the  followers  of 
scholasticism,  a  philosophy  of  dogmatic  religion  which  as- 
sumed a  certain  subject-matter  as  absolute  and  unquestion- 
able. The  duty  of  the  Schoolman  was  to  explain  church 
doctrine;  these  explanations  were  characterized  by  fine  dis- 
tinctions and  by  an  absence  of  real  content.  See  Roger's 
A  Student's  History  of  Philosophy;  also  Baldwin's  Dictionary 
of  Philosophy  and  Psychology. 

Subtle  speculations:  Selby  gives  examples  from  ques- 
tions discussed  by  Thomas  Aquinas.  Whether  all  angels 
belong  to  the  same  genus,  whether  demons  are  evil  by 
nature,  or  by  will,  whether  they  can  change  one  substance 
into  another,  .  .  .  whether  an  angel  can  move  from  one 
point  to  another  without  passing  through  intermediate 
space. 

"writ  in  water":  an  allusion  to  Keats'  request  that  the 
words  "  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water  "  be 
his  epitaph.  The  words  are  inscribed  on  his  tomb  in  the 
Protestant  Cemetery  at  Rome. 

Lord  Brouncker:  The  first  president  of  the  Royal  Society 
after  its  incorporation  in  1662  was  Lord  Brouncker. 
revenant :  ghost. 

PAGE  22 

Boyle:  Robert  Boyle  (1627-1691):  a  British  chemist  and 
natural  philosopher  who  was  noted  especially  for  his  discov- 
ery of  Boyle's  law  of  the  elasticity  of  air. 
Evelyn  (1620-1706):  an  English  author  and  member  of 
the  Royal  Society.  His  most  important  work  is  the  Diary, 
valuable  for  the  full  account  which  it  gives  of  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  time. 

The  Restoration:  In  English  history  the  reestablishing  of 
the  English  monarchy  with  the  return  of  King  Charles  II  in 
1660  ;  by  extension  the  whole  reign  of  Charles  II:  as,  the 
dramatists  of  the  Restoration.  Century  Dictionary. 

PAGE  25 

Aladdin's  lamps  :  a  reference  to  the  story  of  the  Wonder- 
ful Lamp  in  the  Arabian  Nights.  The  magic  lamp  brought 
marvelous  good  fortune  to  the  poor  widow's  son  who  pos- 
sessed it.  Cf.  also  Lowell's  Aladdin :  — 

When  I  was  a  beggarly  boy, 

And  lived  in  a  cellar  damp, 
I  had  not  a  friend  or  a  toy, 
But  I  had  Aladdin's  lamp; 


NOTES 

When  I  could  not  sleep  for  the  cold, 

I  had  fire  enough  in  my  brain, 
And  builded,  with  roofs  of  gold, 

My  beautiful  castles  in  Spain  ! 

PAGE  26 

"  When  in  heaven  the  stars "  :  from  Tennyson's  Speci- 
mens of  a  Translation  of  the  Iliad  in  Blank  Verse. 

PAGE  28 

"increasing  God's  honour  and  bettering  man's  es- 
tate "  :  Bacon's  statement  of  his  purpose  in  writing  the 
Advancement  of  Learning. 

For  example,  etc.:  could  the  sentence  beginning  thus  be 
written  in  better  form? 

PAGE  29 

Rumford  (1738-1814) :  Benjamin  Thompson,  Count  Rum- 
ford,  an  eminent  scientist.  Rumford  was  born  in  America 
and  educated  at  Harvard.  Suspected  of  loyalty  to  the  King 
at  the  time  of  the  revolution,  he  was  imprisoned.  Acquitted, 
he  went  to  England  where  he  became  prominent  in  politics 
and  science.  Invested  with  the  title  of  Count  by  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire,  he  chose  Rumford  for  his  title  after  the 
name  of  the  little  New  Hampshire  town  where  he  had 
taught.  He  gave  a  large  sum  of  money  to  Harvard  College 
to  found  the  Rumford  professorship  of  science. 

PAGE  30 

eccentric:  out  of  the  centre. 


A   LIBERAL   EDUCATION    (1868) 

PAGE  35 

A  Liberal  Education:  from  Science  and  Education;  also 
published  in  Lay  Sermons,  Addresses  and  Reviews. 

PAGE  36 

Ichabod:  cf.  1  Sam.  iv,  21. 

PAGE  37 

senior  wranglership  :  in  Cambridge  University,  England, 
one  who  has  attained  the  first  class  in  the  elementary  divi- 
sion of  the  public  examination  for  honors  in  pure  and  mixed 
mathematics,  commonly  called  the  mathematical  tripos,  those 
who  compose  the  second  rank  of  honors  being  designated 
senior  optimes,  and  those  of  the  third  order  junior  optimes. 
The  student  taking  absolutely  the  first  place  in  the  mathe- 
matical tripos  used  to  be  called  senior  wrangler,  those  fol- 
lowing next  in  the  same  division  being  respectively  termed 
second,  third,  fourth,  etc.,  wranglers.  Century  Dictionary. 
double-first:  any  candidate  for  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts  in  Oxford  University  who  takes  first-class  honors  in  both 
classics  and  mathematics*  is  said  to  have  won  a  double-first. 


NOTES 

PAGE  40 

Retzsch  (1779-1857) :  a  well-known  German  painter  and 
engraver. 

PAGE  42 

Teat- Act:  an  English  statute  of  1673.    It  compelled  all 
persons  holding  office  under  the  crown  to  take  the  oaths  of 
supremacy  and  of  allegiance,  to  receive  the  sacrament  ac- 
cording to  the  usage  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  to  sub- 
scribe to  the  Declaration  against  Transubstantiation. 
Poll:  an  abbreviation  and  transliteration  of  ol  iro\\ot,  "the 
mob  "  ;  university  slang  for  the  whole  body  of  students  tak- 
ing merely  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  at  Cambridge, 
pluck:  the  rejection  of  a  student,  after  examinations,  who 
does  not  come  up  to  the  standard. 


ON   A    PIECE    OF   CHALK 

PAGE  44 

On  a  Piece  of  Chalk  :  a  lecture  to  working-men  from  Lay 
Sermons,  Addresses  and  Reviews. 

Needles  of  the  Isle  of  Wight :  the  needles  are  three 
white,  pointed  rocks  of  chalk,  resting  on  dark-colored  bases, 
and  rising  abruptly  from  the  sea  to  a  height  of  100  feet. 
Baedeker's  Great  Britain. 

Lulworth  in  Dorset,  to  Flamborough  Head:  Lulworth 
is  on  the  southern  coast  of  England,  west  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight:  Flamborough  Head  is  on  the  northeastern  coast  of 
England  and  extends  into  \he  German  Ocean. 
Weald :  a  name  given  to  an  oval-shaped  chalk  area  in  Eng- 
land, beginning  near  the  Straits  of  Dover,  and  extending  into 
the  counties  of  Kent,  Surrey,  Hants,  and  Sussex. 

PAGE  51 

Lieut.  Brooke  :  Brooke  devised  an  apparatus  for  deep-sea 
sounding  from  which  the  weight  necessary  to  sink  the  in- 
strument rapidly,  was  detached  when  it  reached  the  bottom. 
The  object  was  to  relieve  the  strain  on  the  rope  caused  by 
rapid  soundings.  Improved  apparatuses  have  been  invented 
since  the  time  of  Brooke. 

Ehrenberg  (1795-1876):  a  German  naturalist  noted  for  his 
studies  of  Infusoria. 

Bailey  of  West  Point  (1811-1857):  an  American  natu- 
ralist noted  for  Lis  researches  in  microscopy, 
enterprise  of  laying  down  the  telegraph-cable:  the 
first  Atlantic  telegraph-cable  between  England  and  America 
was  laid  in  1858  by  Cyrus  W.  Field  of  New  York.  Messages 
were  sent  over  it  for  a  few  weeks;  then  it  ceased  to  act.  A 
permanent  cable  was  laid  by  Mr.  Field  in  1866. 


NOTES 

PAGE  56 

Dr.  Wallich  (1786-1854) :  a  Danish  botanist  and  member 
of  the  Royal  Society. 

Mr.  Sorby :  President  of  the  Geological  Society  of  Eng- 
land, and  author  of  many  papers  on  subjects  connected  with 
physical  geography. 

PAGE  60 

Sir  Charles  Lyell  (1797-1875):  a  British  geologist,  and 
one  of  the  first  to  uphold  Darwin's  Origin  of  Species. 
Echinus:   the   sea-urchin;    an  animal  which   dwells  in  a 
spheroidal  shell  built  up  from  polygonal  plates,  and  covered 
with  sharp  spines. 

PAGE  62 

Somme:  a  river  of  northern  France  which  flows  into  the 
English  Channel  northeast  of  Dieppe. 

PAGE  63 

the  chipped  flints  of  Hoxne  and  Amiens:  the  rude 
instruments  which  were  made  by  primitive  man  were  of 
chipped  flint.  Numerous  discoveries  of  large  flint  imple- 
ments have  been  made  in  the  north  of  France,  near  Amiens, 
and  in  England.  The  first  noted  flint  implements  were  dis- 
covered in  Hoxne,  Suffolk,  England,  1797.  Cf.  Evans'  An- 
cient Stone  Implements  and  Lyell 's  Antiquity  of  Alan. 

PAGE  64 

Rev.  Mr.  Gunn  (1800-1881)  :  an  English  naturalist.  Mr. 
Gunn  sent  from  Tasmania  a  large  number  of  plants  and 
animals  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

"the  whirligig  of  time  ":  cf.  Shakespeare,  Twelfth  Night, 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  1.  395. 

PAGE  65 

Euphrates  and  Hiddekel:  cf.  Genesis  ii,  14. 

PAGE  66 

the  great  river,  the  river  of  Babylon :  cf .  Genesis  xv,  18. 

PAGE  72 

Without  haste,  but  without  rest:  from  Goethe's  Zahme 
Xenien.  In  a  letter  to  his  sister,  Huxley  says:  "And  then 
perhaps  by  the  following  of  my  favorite  motto,  — 

"  '  Wie  das  Gestirn, 
Ohne  Hast, 
Ohne  Rast '  — 

something  may  be  done,  and  some  of  Sister  Lizzie's  fond 
imaginations  turn  out  not  altogether  untrue."  The  quota- 
tion entire  is  as  follows :  — 

Wie  das  Gestirn, 
Ohne  Hast, 
Aber  ohne  Rast, 
Drehe  sich  jeder 
Um  die  eigne  Lust. 

viii 


NOTES 

THE  PRINCIPAL  SUBJECTS  OF  EDUCATION 

(1882) 

PAGE  73 

The  Principal  Subjects  of  Education  :  an  extract  from 
the  essay,  Science  and  Art  in  Relation  to  Education,  this 
discussion  :  "  this  "  refers  to  the  last  sentence  in  the  pre- 
ceding paragraph,  in  which  Huxley  says  that  it  will  be  im- 
possible to  determine  the  amount  of  time  to  be  given  to  the 
principal  subjects  of  education  until  it  is  determined  "  what 
the  principal  subjects  of  education  ought  to  be."  Francis 
Bacon  :  cf.  note  p.  18. 

PAGE  74 

the  best  chance  of  being  happy  :  In  connection  with 
Huxley's  work  on  the  London  School  Board,  his  biographer 
says  that  Huxley  did  not  regard  "  intellectual  training  only 
from  the  utilitarian  point  of  view  ;  he  insisted,  e.  g.,  on  the 
value  of  reading  for  amusement  as  one  of  the  most  valuable 
uses  to  hardworked  people." 

PAGE  75 

"  Harmony  in  grey  "  :  cf.  with  1.  34  in  Browning's  An- 
drea del  Sarto. 

PAGE  82 

Hobbes  (1588-1679):  noted  for  his  views  of  human  na- 
ture and  of  politics.  According  to  Minto,  "The  merits  as- 
cribed to  his  style  are  brevity,  simplicity  and  precision." 
Bishop  Berkeley  (1685-1753):  an  Irish  prelate  noted  for 
his  philosophical  writings  and  especially  for  his  theory  of 
vision  which  was  the  foundation  for  modern  investigations 
of  the  subject.  "  His  style  has  always  been  esteemed  ad- 
mirable ;  simple,  felicitous  and  sweetly  melodious.  His  dia- 
logues are  sustained  with  great  skill."  Minto's  Manual  of 
English  Prose  Literature.  We  have  been  recently  fur- 
nished with  in  prose  :  The  Iliad  of  Homer  translated  by 
Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers,  the  first  edition  of  which  appeared 
in  1882,  is  probably  the  one  to  which  Huxley  refers  The 
Odyssey,  translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang,  appeared  in  1879. 
Among  the  best  of  the  more  recent  translations  of  Homer 
are  the  Odyssey  by  George  Herbert  Palmer  ;  the  Iliad  by 
Arthur  S.  Way,  arid  the  Odyssey  by  the  same  author. 

PAGE  83 

Locke  (1G32-17Q4)  :  an  English  philosopher  of  great  in- 


NOTES 

fluence.    His  chief   work  is  An   Essay  Concerning  Human 
Understanding. 
PAGE  84 

Franciscus  Bacon  sic  cogitavit:  thus  Francis  Bacon 
thought. 

THE  METHOD  OF  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGA- 
TION (1863) 

PAGE  85 

The  Method  of  Scientific  Investigation  is  an  extract 
from  the  third  of  six  lectures  given  to  workingmen  on  The 
Causes  of  the  Phenomena  of  Organic  Nature  in  Darwiniana. 

PAGE  86 

these  terrible  apparatus  :  apparatus  is  the  form  for  both 
the  singular  and  plural;  apparatuses  is  another  form  for  the 
plural.  Incident  in  one  of  Moliere's  plays  :  the  allusion 
is  to  the  hero,  M.  Jourdain  in  the  play,  "  Le  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme." 

PAGE  90 

these  kind:  modern  writers  regard  kind  as  singular. 
Shakespeare  treated  it  as  a  plural  noun,  as  "  These  kind  of 
knaves  I  knew." 

PAGE  93 

Newton :  cf.  page  19.  Laplace  (1749-1827)  :  a  cele- 
brated French  astronomer  and  mathematician.  He  is  best 
known  for  his  theory  of  the  formation  of  the  planetary  sys- 
tems, the  so-called  "nebular  hypothesis."  Until  recently 
this  hypothesis  has  generally  been  accepted  in  its  main 
outlines.  It  is  now  being  supplanted  by  the  "  Spiral  Neb- 
ular Hypothesis "  developed  by  Professors  Moulton  and 
Chamberlin  of  the  University  of  Chicago.  See  Moulton's 
Introduction  to  Astronomy,  p.  463. 

ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE  (1868) 

PAGE  95 

On  the  Physical  Basis  of  Life  :  from  Methods  and  Re- 
sults; also  published  in  Lay  Sermons,  Addresses  and  Reviews. 
"  The  substance  of  this  paper  was  contained  in  a  discourse 
which  was  delivered  in  Edinburgh  on  the  evening  of  Sunday, 
the  8th  of  November,  1868  —  being  the  first  of  a  series  of 
Sunday  evening  addresses  upon  non-theological  topics,  insti- 
tuted by  the  Rev.  J.  Cranbrook.  Some  phrases,  which  could 
possess  only  a  transitory  and  local  interest,  have  been  omit- 
ted ;  instead  of  the  newspaper  report  of  the  Archbishop  of 
York's  address,  his  Grace's  subsequently  published  pam- 


NOTES 

phlet  On  the  Limits  of  Philosophical  Inquiry  is  quoted  ;  and 
I  have,  here  and  there,  endeavoured  to  express  my  meaning 
more  fully  and  clearly  than  I  seein  to  have  done  in  speak- 
ing—  if  I  may  judge  by  sundry  criticisms  upon  what  I«am 
supposed  to  have  said,  which  have  appeared.  But  in  sub- 
stance, and,  so  far  as  my  recollection  serves,  in  form,  what 
is  here  written  corresponds  with  what  was  there  said."— Hux- 
ley- 

PAGE  96 

Firmer  whale  :  a  name  given  to  a  whale  which  has  a  dor- 
sal fin.  A  Fimier  whale  commonly  measures  from  60  to  90 
feet  in  length.  A  fortiori  :  with  stronger  reason  :  still  more 
conclusively. 

PAGE  97 

well-known  epigram  :  from  Goethe's  Venetianische  Epi- 
gramme.  The  following  is  a  translation  of  the  passage  : 
Why  do  the  people  push  each  other  and  shout  ?  They  want 
to  work  for  their  living,  bring  forth  children ;  and  feed  them 
as  well  as  they  possibly  can.  .  .  .  No  man  can  attain  to 
more,  however  much  he  may  pretend  to  the  contrary. 

PAGE  100 

Maelstroms  :  a  celebrated  whirlpool  or  violent  current  in 
the  Arctic  Ocean,  near  the  western  coast  of  Norway,  be- 
tween the  islands  of  Moskeniiso  and  Moskeu,  formerly  sup- 
posed to  suck  in  and  destroy  everything  that  approached  it 
at  any  time,  but  now  known  not  to  be  dangerous  except 
under  certain  conditions.  Century  Dictionary.  Cf .  also  Poe's 
Descent  into  the  Maelstrom.  Milne-Edwards  (1800-1885)  : 
a  French  naturalist.  His  Elements  de  Zoologie  won  him  a 
great  reputation. 

PAGE  101 

with  such  qualifications  as  arises  :  a  typographical 
error. 

PAGE  104 

De   Bary  (1831-1888)  :   a  German   botanist   noted   espe- 
cially for  his  researches  in  cryptogamic  botany. 
No  Man's  Land:  Huxley  probably  intends  no  specific  geo- 
graphical reference.  The  expression  is  common  as  a  desig- 
nation of  some  remote  and  unfrequented  locality. 

PAGE  106 

Kuhne  (1837-1900) :  a  German  physiologist  and  professor 
of  science  at  Amsterdam  and  Heidelberg. 
Debemur  morti  nos  nostraque  :  Horace  —  Ars  Poetica, 
line  63. 

As  forests  change  their  foliage  year  by  year, 
Leaves,  that  come  first,  first  fall  and  disappear ; 
So  antique  words  die  out,  and  in  their  room, 


NOTES 

Others  spring  up,  of  vigorous  growth  and  bloom  ; 
Ourselves  and  all  thai '«  ours,  to  death  are  due, 
And  why  should  words  not  be  mortal  too  ? 

Martin's  translation. 

PAGE  107 

peau  de  chagrin  :  skin  of  a  wild  ass.  Balzac  (1799- 
1850)  :  a  celebrated  French  novelist  of  the  realistic  school 
of  fiction. 

PAGE  109 

Barmecide  feast :  the  allusion  is  to  a  story  in  the  Arabian 
Nights  in  which  a  member  of  the  Barmecide  family  places 
a  succession  of  empty  dishes  before  a  beggar,  pretending 
that  they  contain  a  rich  repast. 

PAGE  112 

modus  operand!  :  method  of  working. 

PAGE  113 

Martinus  Scriblerus  :  a  reference  to  Memoirs  of  Martinus 
Scribierus  written  principally  by  John  Arbuthnot,  and  pub- 
lished in  1741.  The  purpose  of  the  papers  is  given  by  War- 
burton  and  Spence  in  the  following  extracts  quoted  from 
the  Preface  to  the  Memoirs  of  the  Extraordinary  Life, 
Works  and  Discoveries  of  Martinus  Scriblerus  in  Elwin  and 
Courthope's  edition  of  Pope's  works,  vol.  x,  p.  273:  — 

"  Mr.  Pope,  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  and  Dr.  Swift,  in  conjunction, 
formed  the  project  of  a  satire  on  the  abuses  of  human  learn- 
ing ;  and  to  make  it  better  received,  proposed  to  execute  it 
in  the  manner  of  Cervantes  (the  original  author  of  this 
species  of  satire)  under  a  continued  narrative  of  feigned  ad- 
ventures. They  had  observed  that  those  abuses  still  kept  their 
ground  against  all  that  the  ablest  and  gravest  authors  could 
say  to  discredit  them  ;  they  concluded,  therefore,  the  force 
of  ridicule  was  wanting  to  quicken  their  disgrace  ;  and  ridi- 
cule was  here  in  its  place,  when  the  abuses  had  been  already 
detected  by  sober  reasoning  ;  and  truth  in  no  danger  to  suf- 
fer by  the  premature  use  of  so  powerful  an  instrument." 

"  The  design  of  this  work,  as  stated  by  Pope  himself,  is  to 
ridicule  all  the  false  tastes  in  learning  under  the  character 
of  a  man  of  capacity  enough,  that  had  dipped  into  every  art 
and  science,  but  injudiciously  iu  each.  It  was  begun  by  a 
club  of  some  of  the  greatest  wits  of  the  age  —  Lord  Oxford, 
the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  Pope,  Congreve,  Swift,  Arbuthnot, 
and  others.  Gay  often  held  the  pen  ;  and  Addison  liked  it 
very  well,  and  was  not  disinclined  to  come  into  it." 
accounted  for  the  operation  of  the  meat-jack  :  from 
the  paper  "  To  the  learned  inquisitor  into  nature,  Mai  -thins 
Scriblerus  :  the  society  of  free  thinkers  greeting."  Elwin 
and  Courthope,  Pope's  works,  vol.  ?,  p.  332. 


NOTES 

PAGE  114 

The  remainder  of  the  essay  endeavors  to  meet  the  charge 
of  materialism.  The  following  is  the  conclusion  :  — 

"  In  itself  it  is  of  little  moment  whether  we  express  the 
phaeuomena  of  matter  in  terms  of  spirit ;  or  the  phaenomena 
of  spirit  in  terms  of  matter  :  matter  may  be  regarded  as  a 
form  of  thought,  thought  may  be  regarded  as  a  property  of 
matter  —  each  statement  has  a  certain  relative  truth.  But 
with  a  view  to  the  progress  of  science,  the  materialistic 
terminology  is  in  every  way  to  be  preferred.  For  it  con- 
nects thought  with  the  other  phaenomena  of  the  universe, 
and  suggests  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  those  physical  condi- 
tions, or  concomitants  of  thought,  which  are  more  or  less 
accessible  to  us,  and  a  knowledge  of  which  may,  in  future, 
help  us  to  exercise  the  same  kind  of  control  over  the  world 
of  thought,  as  we  already  possess  in  respect  of  the  material 
world  ;  whereas,  the  alternative,  or  spiritualistic,  termi- 
nology is  utterly  barren,  and  leads  to  nothing  but  obscurity 
and  confusion  of  ideas. 

"  Thus  there  can  be  little  doubt,  that  the  further  science 
advances,  the  more  extensively  and  consistently  will  all  the 
phaenomena  of  Nature  be  represented  by  materialistic  for- 
mulae and  symbols.  But  the  man  of  science,  who,  forgetting 
the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry,  slides  from  these  formu- 
lae and  symbols  into  what  is  commonly  understood  by  mate- 
rialism, seems  to  me  to  place  himself  on  a  level  with  the 
mathematician,  who  should  mistake  the  x's  and  y's  with 
which  he  works  his  problems,  for  real  entities  —  and  with 
this  further  disadvantage,  as  compared  with  the  mathema- 
tician, that  the  blunders  of  the  latter  are  of  no  practical 
consequence,  while  the  errors  of  systematic  materialism  may 
paralyze  the  energies  and  destroy  the  beauty  of  a  life." 

ON  CORAL  AND  CORAL  REEFS  (1870) 

PAGE  115 

On  Coral  and  Coral  Reefs  :  from  Critiques  and  Addresses. 
The  essay  was  published  in  1870.  Sic  et  curalium  :  Thus 
also  the  coral,  as  soon  as  it  touches  the  air  turns  hard. 
It  was  a  soft  plant  under  the  water.  Boccone  (1633- 
1704) :  a  noted  Sicilian  naturalist. 

PAGE  116 

Marsigli  (1658-1730):  an  Italian  soldier  and  naturalist.  He 
wrote  A  Physical  History  of  the  Sea.  "  Trait£  du  Corail  ": 
"  I  made  the  coral  bloom  in  vases  full  of  sea-water,  and  I 
noticed  that  what  we  believe  to  be  the  flower  of  this  so- 
called  plant  was  in  reality  only  an  insect  similar  to  a  little 


NOTES 

nettle  or  polype.  I  had  the  pleasure  to  see  the  paws  or  feet 
of  this  nettle  move,  and  having  placed  the  vase  full  of 
water  in  which  the  coral  was,  near  the  fire,  at  a  moderate 
heat,  all  the  little  insects  expanded,  the  nettle  stretched 
out  its  feet  and  formed  what  M.  de  Marsigli  and  I  had 
taken  for  the  petals  of  the  flower.  The  calyx  of  this  so- 
called  flower  is  the  very  body  of  the  animal  issued  from  its 
cell." 
PAGE  117 

Reaumur  (1683-1757):  a  French  physiologist  and  nat- 
uralist, best  known  as  the  inventor  of  the  Re'aumur  thermom- 
eter. He  was  a  member  of  the  French  Academy  of  Science. 
Bishop  Wilson  :  Thomas  Wilson  (1663-1755),  bishop  of 
the  Isle  of  Man.  Details  of  his  life  are  given  in  the  folio 
edition  of  his  works  (1782).  An  appreciation  of  his  religious 


writings  is  given  by  Matthew  Arnold  in  Culture  and  Anar- 
chy. Bishop  Wilson's  words,  "  To  make  reason  and  the  will 
of  God  prevail,"  are  the  theme  of  Arnold's  essay,  Sweetness 
and  Light.  An  eminent  modern  writer  :  Matthew  Ar- 
nold (1822-1888),  eldest  son  of  Thomas  Arnold,  headmas- 
ter of  Rugby  ;  a  distinguished  critic  and  poet,  and  professor 
of  poetry  at  Oxford.  The  allusion  is  to  Arnold's  essay,  Stceet- 
nesn  and  Light.  The  phrase,  "  sweetness  and  light,"  is  one 
which  -<Esop  uses  in  Swift's  Battle  of  the  Books  to  sum  up  the 
superiority  of  the  ancients  over  the  moderns.  "  As  for  us,  the 
ancients,  we  are  content,  with  the  bee,  to  pretend  to  nothing 
of  our  own  beyond  our  wings  and  our  voice,  that  is  to  say, 
our  flights  and  our  language  ;  for  the  rest,  whatever  we  have 
got  has  been  by  infinite  labor  and  search,  and  ranging 
through  every  corner  of  nature  ;  the  difference  is,  that  in- 
stead of  dirt  and  poison  we  have  rather  chose  to  fill  our 
hives  with  honey  and  wax,  thus  furnishing  mankind  with  the 
two  noblest  things,  which  are  sweetness  and  light."  Arnold's 
purpose  in  the  essay  is  to  define  the  cultured  man  as  one 
who  endeavors  to  make  beauty  and  intelligence  prevail 
everywhere. 

PAGE  118 

Abbe"  Tre/mbley  (1700-1784):  a  Swiss  naturalist.  He 
wrote  "Memoires  pour  servir  a  Phistoire  d'un  genre  de 
polypes  d'eau  doiice,  a  bras  en  forme  de  comes."  Bernard 
de  Jussieu  (1699-1776):  a  French  botanist;  founder  of 
the  natural  classification  of  plants.  He  was  superintendent  of 
the  Trianon  Gardens.  Guettard  (1715-1786):  a  French 
naturalist. 

PAGE  124 

Monte  Nuovo  within  the  old  crater  of  Somma  :  Monte 
Nuovo,  a  mountain  west  of  Naples  ;  Somma,  a  mountain 


NOTES 

north  of  Vesuvius  which  with  its  lofty,  semicircular  cliff  en- 
circles the  active  cone  of  Vesuvius. 

PAGE  126 

Mauritius  :  an  island  in  the  Indian  Ocean  ;  Huxley  visited 
the  island  when  on  the  voyage  with  the  Rattlesnake.  He 
wrote  to  his  mother  of  his  visit  :  "  This  island  is,  you  know, 
the  scene  of  Saint  Pierre's  beautiful  story  of  Paul  and 
Virginia,  over  which  I  suppose  most  people  have  sentimen- 
talized at  one  time  or  another  of  their  lives.  Until  we  reached 
here  I  did  not  know  that  the  tale  was  like  the  lady's  im- 
prover —  a  fiction  founded  on  fact,  and  that  Paul  and  Vir- 
ginia were  at  one  time  flesh  and  blood,  and  that  their  verit- 
able dust  was  buried  at  Pamplemousses  in  a  spot  consid- 
ered as  one  of  the  lions  of  the  place,  and  visited  as  classic 
ground." 

PAGE  130 

Mr.  Darwin's  coral  reefs:  The  Structure  and  Distribution 
of  Coral  Reefs,  published  in  1848. 

PAGE  134 

Professor  Jukes  (1811-1869) :  an  English  geologist. 

PAGE  136 

Mr.  Dana  (1813-1895)  :  a  well-known  American  geologist 
and  mineralogist  ;  a  professor  at  Yale  from  1845.  He  wrote 
a  number  of  books  among  which  is  Coral  and  Coral  Reefs. 

PAGE  137 

Jurassic  period  :  that  part  of  the  geological  series  which 
is  older  than  the  Cretaceous  and  newer  than  the  Triassic  ; 
so  called  from  the  predominance  of  rocks  of  this  age  in  the 
Jura  Mountains.  The  three  great  divisions  of  fossiliferous 
rocks  are  called  the  Triassic,  the  Jurassic,  and  the  Creta- 


REFERENCE  BOOKS 

The  following  reference  books  are  suggested  for  a  more  com- 
plete treatment  of  various  points  in  the  text  :  — 
Andrews'  History  of  England. 
Green's  Short  History  of  the  English  People. 
Traill's  Social  England. 
Roger's  A  Student's  History  of  Philosophy. 
Royce's  The  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy. 
Huxley's  Life  and  Letters. 

Smalley's  Mr.  Huxley,  in  Scribner's  Magazine  for  October,  1905. 
Darwin's  Life  and  Letters. 


COLLEGE  ENTRANCE 
REQUIREMENTS 

College  Entrance  Requirements  for  Careful  Study  for  the  Years  1911-1915  inclusive. 
In  one  volume.  Cloth,  crown  8vo.  $i.oo,net. 

The  text  and  notes  throughout  correspond  exactly  with  the  separate  issues  of  these 
titles  in  the  Riverside  Literature  Series. 

Contents :  Burke's  Conciliation  with  the  Colonies ;  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns ;  Macau- 
lay's  Life  of  Johnson  ;  Milton's  Minor  Poems  ;  Shakespeare's  Macbeth ;  Tenny- 
son's Gareth  and  Lynette,  and  Other  Idylls;  Washington's  Farewell  Address; 
Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration. 

COLLEGE   ENTRANCE   REQUIREMENTS 

IN  THE  RIVERSIDE  LITERATURE  SERIES 
The  Numbers  in  parentheses  refer  to  the  Riverside  Literature  Series. 

FOR  READING,  1911 

I  (two  to  be  selected).    Shakespeare's  As  You  Like  It  (<, ^ ;  Henry  V  (163) ;  Julius 

Cassar  (67);  Merchant  of  Venice  (55);  Twelfth  Night  (149). 

II  (one  to  be  selected).  Addison's  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers  (60,  61) ;  Bacon's 
Essays  (177);  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Part  I  (109);  Franklin's  Autobi- 
ography (19,  20). 

III  (one  to  be  selected)     Chaucer's  Prologue  (135);  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village 
(68) ;  tPalgrave's  Golden  Treasury  (First  Series),  Books  II  and  III ;  Port's  Rape 
of  the  Lock  (147);  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  Selections  (160). 

IV  (two  to  be  selected)      FBlackmore's  Lorna  Doone  ;  Dickens's  Tale  of  Two  Cities 
(161);  Eliot's  Silas  Marner  (83);   Mrs.  Gaskell's  Cranford  (192);   Goldsmith's 
Vicar  of  Wakefield  (78) ,  Hawthorne's  House  of  the  Seven  Gables  (91) ;  Scott's 
Ivanhoe  (86) ;  Scott's  Quentin  Durward  (165) ;  Thackeray's  Henry  Esmond  (140). 

V  (two  to  be  selected).  Carlyle's  Heroes  and  Hero- Worship  (166) ;  De  Quincey's 
Joan  of  Arc,  and  the  English  Mail-Coach  (164);  Emerson's  Essays  (selected)  (171, 
172);  Irving's  Sketch  Book,  Selected  Essays  (51,  52);  Lamb's  Essays  of  Elia 
selected  (170);  Ruskin's  Sesame  and  Lilies  (142). 

VI  (two  to  be  selected)  Arnold's  Sohrab  and  Rustum  (132) ;  Browning's  Selected 
Poems  (115);  Byron's  Mazeppa,  and  Prisoner  of  Chillon  (189);  Coleridge's  Rime 
of  the  Ancient  Mariner  (So) ;  Longfellow's  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  (2) ;  Low- 
ell's Vision  of  Sir  Launfal(3o);  Macaulay's  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  (45);  tPal- 
grave's Golden  Treasury  (First  Series),  Book  IV;  Poe's  Poems  (119);  Scott's 
Lady  of  the  Lake  (53) ;  Tennyson's  Gareth  and  Lynette,  Lancelot  and  Elaine,  and 
The  Passing  of  Arthur  (156). 

FOR  READING,  igia 

The  same  literature  as  for  1909-1911  with  the  following  exceptions  :  — 
In  Group  V,  Carlyle's  "The   Hero  as  Poet,"  "The  Hero  as  Man  of  Letters,"  and 
"The  Hero  as  King"  (166)  are  substituted  for  "  Heroes  and  Hero- Worship,"  com- 
plete. In  Group  VI,  Tennyson's  Princess  (i  1 1)  is  substituted  for  Gareth  and  Lynette, 
etc.  (156). 

FOR  READING,  1913-1915 

With  a  view  to  large  freedom  of  choice,  the  books  provided  for  reading  are  arranged  in 
the  following  groups,  from  which  at  least  ten  units  are  to  be  selected,  two  from  each 
group.  Each  unit  is  set  off  by  semicolons 

I  The  Old  Testament ;  the  Odyssey   (190),  with  the  omission,  if  desired,  of  Book,' 
814  a 


I-V  and  XV-XVII ;  the  tlliad,  with  the  omission,  if  desired,  of  Books  XI,  XIIl- 
XV,  XVII,  XXI ;  the  /Eneid  (193).  For  any  unit  of  this  group  a  unit  from  any 
other  group  may  be  substituted. 

II  Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice  (55);  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  (153);  As 
You  Like  It  (93);  Twelfth  Night  (149) ;  Henry  the  Fifth  (163) ;  Julius  Caesar  (67). 

HI  Defoe's  Robinson  Crusoe,  Part  I  (87);  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield  (78); 
either  Scott's  Ivanhoe  (86)  or  Scott's  Quentin  Durward  (165) ;  Hawthorne'r 
House  of  the  Seven  Gables  (91) ;  either  tDickens's  David  Copperfield  or  Dickens's 
Tale  of  Two  Cities  (161);  Thackeray's  Henry  Esmond  (140);  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
Cranford  (192) ;  George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner  (83) ;  tStevenson's  Treasure  Island. 

IV  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Part  I  (109);  The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers  in 
the  Spectator  (60-61);  Franklin's  Autobiography  (19-20)  (condensed);  Irving's 
Sketch  Book  (51-52);  Macaulay's  Essays  on  Lord  Ciive  and  Warren  Hastings; 
•fThackeray's  English  Humorists ;  Selections  from  Lincoln  (32),  memoir  or  esti- 
mate (133  and  185);  tParkman's  Oregon  Trail;  either  Thoreau's  Walden  or  Hux- 
ley's Autobiography  and  selections  from  Lay  Sermons  (187  and  188) ,  -(Stevenson's 
Inland  Voyage  and  Travels  with  a  Donkey 

V  tPalgrave's  Golden  Treasury  (First  Series),  Books  II  and  III ;  Gray's  Elegy  in  a 
Country  Churchyard  (74)  and  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village  (68);  Coleridge's 
Ancient  Mariner  (80) ;  and  Lowell's  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal  (30) ;  Scott's  Lady  of  the 
Lake  (53);  Byron's  Childe  Harold,  Canto  IV,  and  Prisoner  of  Chillon  (189);  tPal- 
grave's Golden  Treasury  (First  Series),  Book  IV;  Poe's  Raven  (ng);  Longfel- 
low's Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  (2),  and  Whittier's  Snow- Bound  (4)  ;  Macau- 
lay's  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  (45),  ana  Arnold's  Sohrab  and  Rustum  (132);  Tenny- 
son's Gareth  and  Lynette,  Lancelot  and  Elaine,  and  The  Passing  of  Arthur  (156); 
Browning,  Selected  Poems  (115). 

FOR  STUDY,  1911 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America  (100)  or  Washington's  Farewell  Ad- 
dress and  Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration  (190);  Macaulay's  Life  of  John- 
son (102)  or  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burn*  (105);  Milton's  Minor  Poems  (72)  ;  Shake- 
speare's Macbeth  (106). 

FOR  STUDY,  igra 

In  this  group,  Tennyson's  Gareth  and  Lynette,  Lancelot  and  Elaine,  and  The  Passing 
of  Arthur  (156)  are  added  as  an  alternative  for  Milton's  Minor  Poems  (72).  The 
other  literature  is  the  same  as  for  1910-1911. 

FOR  STUDY,  1913-1915 

Shakespeare's  Macbeth  (106) ;  Milton's  L' Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  and  Comus  (72)  ;  either 
Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America  (100)  or  both  Washington's  Fare- 
well Address  and  Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration  (190);  either  Macaulay's 
Life  of  Johnson  (102)  or  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns  (105). 

tNot  published  in  the  Riverside  Literature  Series. 


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